And He Shows Me No Smile
by je suis l.m
Summary: Set during HBP. DMSS slash. Draco struggles with feelings for his professor while fighting against his growing hatred for the Death Eaters, Snape being one of them. His frustration may bring forth affection or deeper hatred. Or both. Better summary inside
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling and her publishers have that privilege.

Pairings: Draco Malfoy & Severus Snape.

Rating: M, for male on male in later chapters.

Summary: After several small, innocent attempts to catch Severus Snape's eye in his youth, Draco Malfoy, now in his sixth year at Hogwarts, may find that while dealing with the pressure of becoming a Death Eater, his professor could provide either security or further confusion, or both.

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter One

Early morning sun kissed the stone floor of my room. Lying in bed, I traced my fingers along the Mark, Voldemort's insignia of influence over me, toward the Malfoys, even after my father's failure. Yet, these were not the thoughts occupying my turbulent mind. Closing my gray eyes, I smiled faintly, knowing that soon, once I rose for breakfast, I would be in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I could feel the slow smile turning up the corners of my mouth.

-

_I touched the knee of my professor. Eleven years old, and still I couldn't stop myself. Snape—dark hair, dark eyes, nothing like my family. But the man did not even glance to me, as I had so hoped he would. A mere smile would have been more than sufficient. No, he stared straight ahead._

"_You have classes to attend," Snape murmured in his dull, emotionless voice._

-

Breakfast consisted of strawberries and eggs on toast. Crabbe, Goyle, even Pansy—they were all so unaffected. They understood, they _knew _of the Mark on my arm, of the Dark Lord's soon-to-be arrival; yet they sat beside me, intent on their food, completely blasé. I had not fully revealed the whole of my task for Voldemort to them, and now, I was more than content that I had withheld this information. These people—my friends?—could not comprehend it. How unbearable the pressure had become.

So many things they did not know about me. My gaze shifted to the professor, his seat so far from mine amongst his colleagues. So many things. He caught my eyes in his own, if only for a brief moment, then quickly shifted away. Had it been intentional? Truly? I thought not.

Frustration manifested through my fingers twining in my pale hair. Everything about me was pale, screaming fragility. I fought against such pretenses. Alabaster skin, smoke eyes, white-blonde hair. Had I been sculpted to embody some meek fallen angel?

Father's physiognomy was solidified with his demanding voice, behavior, the muscle beneath his robes. I, on the other hand, while being gifted with his razor blade wit, lacked visible strength. My curses and hexes were sharp; my Occlumency more perfected than ever before. But to the eye, nothing was apparent, other than my Malfoy name.

No one could see into the powers I held within, or the thoughts buried beneath. My fellow classmates weaved through the hallways, unaware of my real self, as I slipped into Professor Snape's Defence Against the Dark Arts class. He was not amongst the tables and chairs, mingled with the few early students. He was not behind his desk. Late, I supposed, trying not to be disappointed.

Taking my seat, I reveled in how much the classroom still resembled his old potions abode. To the side, upon a black marble table, rested two cauldrons alongside several vials. Ingredients were locked away in cupboards, masked horrors that could find their way out only in their master's hands.

Potter finally made his way into the classroom. I dared not to make eye contact with him—not this time. My composure had been far too damaged by today's ponderings, and I was already mildly fearful of Harry's suspicions over my connections with the Dark Lord. Snakes and gryffons were never accounted as friends in mythology. Why should a Slytherin and a Gryffindor?

Granger followed Harry through the door. Both are N.E.W.T. level in this class? Of course. Hermione succeeded at everything. Harry magically seemed sufficient at D.A.D.A. Snape _had _opened the class to less than outstanding students, anyway. I sighed. A long year had begun, and as though confirming my thoughts, a dull ache burned from the Mark.

In conclusion to the student's arrivals, Snape appeared in the doorway and closed the heavy door behind him. Stern in his speech, as I was sure he was, his actual words made no sense to me. The monotonous voice sounded different to my ears, carrying with it a certain lilt, carrying me to certain memories.

-

_His eyes on level with mine, his frame kneeling to my height. "Gryffindors can be upsetting," he scolded, "but that is still no reason to let Potter have his way in provoking a fight from a Slytherin."_

"_Malfoys have honor to protect," I quipped, rudeness my only salve to counter criticism, especially from this man. "Purebloods cannot accept _his _sort of disrespect, not from a boy raised by Muggles."_

_My professor rose, stepping aside. My greatest efforts held my hand away, halted my wishes to grasp his arm and bring him back to me. Twelve years old and showing such restraint. As though sensing my desperation, he returned, kneeling once more._

_Placing his hand on my shoulder, he responded simply but in his languid way: "You should not lower yourself to him, then. Your blood being of such a grand grade—do not even feel the need to be his rival."_

_I savored this compliment. To me, there was no reply that could truly express my pleasure. Instead, I brushed my fingers against the sallow skin of the hand upon my thin shoulder. He did not take it away; he did not take my hand in his own. _

_He did not smile._

"_You have classes to attend." How I had grown to abhor those words._

-

The students stood and began exiting the class, single-file. My mind torn from its reverie, I followed suit, my gaze lingering upon Snape, whose back faced me as he erased the lesson from the blackboard. Notice me, I begged silently, and he turned. After a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, I realized that the corner of his mouth twitched awkwardly into a small, albeit a half-smile, but then I saw the truth behind this could-be sign of affection.

His eyes traveled briskly to just below my elbow, knowingly seeing through the covering of my dress jacket, to the Mark. He had smiled at the scar of a Death Eater, of Voldemort. I feared I would be ill as I left the room, my stomach in pain—not from butterflies but anger that Severus Snape had finally bestowed upon me a smile, but meant for Voldemort?

* * *

A/N: Or was it? I promise more soon. And just to inform everyone, I am actually not a Harry Potter fan. See, I've only seen the first movie about ten years ago, ten minutes of the second movie, and watched the Half-Blooded Prince recently. Other than that, wikipedia is my best friend. (**UPDATE**: Just so everyone knows, after finishing this story, I decided to read the books. Love them!)

Still, **read and review**. Even though this story is now complete, I continue to watch over its amount of hits/visitors/reviews and enjoy any feedback.


	2. Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. And as another warning, I have been studying up (in every possible way other than reading the book) on HBP, but I do not like Moaning Myrtle, and she won't be in here. There will be differences between the book and this fanfiction, but the general storyline is relatively the same, and will probably lean more toward the movie.

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Two

My life at Hogwarts was utterly scheduled, or should have been. For my fellow classmates, the days passed by as a medley of meals and classes, followed by weekends spent at the Three Broomsticks or any of the other various shops in Hogsmeade. To me, the warmth of a butterbeer had never seemed so inviting, but I knew I could not leave my post. Everything depended upon me—my life as a Death Eater, my family's reattained glory.

The vanishing cabinet appeared beautiful in my eyes—my only salvation. Through this wooden creation with darkened gold hinges and lattice-work, I would receive the Death Eaters, receive the honor that the Malfoy family deserved. It needed repairs; it required patience. I could provide both.

I would sacrifice anything to preserve our good name. _Anything? _I tried so desperately to shut away the voice in my head, a voice so familiar and slow, the voice that made me hang on every word. _Even me? _

Even him? No, if I could repair this cabinet and vanish to any place, not to Borgin & Burkes, I knew it would be with him, the bearer of this perfectly horrendous voice: Severus Snape. Stepping away from my project, I leaned against another of the various items—a hollow wooden desk—in the Room of Requirement, a room cast with shadows and darkness seeming almost midnight blue. It suited me. I shut my eyes, almost as though I wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, but in actuality, the opposite was so greatly desired. I needed no distractions. How hard could it be? Follow into the footsteps of the Death Eaters, wallow in the Dark Arts, forget friendship—all for power. Forget a man whose smile I dearly wanted for myself, yet was only given as a sign of acceptance. Not acceptance of the feelings I had harbored for five years. Acceptance of the dark path that I had chosen.

Or was forced into?

The confusion was utterly maddening. The walls of the Room of Requirement seemed to close-in, ever so slightly, and the objects surrounding me transformed into daunting characters of greed and malice. Greedy for my blood; malicious in its purest form. I retreated to the safety of the hallway.

I had nowhere to go. My so-called friends were most likely at the Three Broomsticks, but I knew Harry would be there, accompanied by his Mudblood and Blood Traitor companions. _At least they are true friends. _The voice was not Severus this time, but my own. From where did this envy stem?

_Forget the jealousy, forget the loneliness. _How could I throw away my doubts when isolation had seeped into my very existence. There was only one solution: to rid myself of this torture, I had to find someone with whom I _could _forget it all. I needed temporary amnesia.

Crabbe, Goyle, even Pansy—they only reminded me of inadequacy. No one else was worthy of my presence. Except Snape. I sighed, the image of his half-smile from the day before replaying in my mind. Did I really want to be around him? I knew the answer to that question without any actual confirmation. So, as the long winding corridors of Hogwarts provided me with transient company, the echoes of my footsteps led me to the dungeon—to Snape's office. Would he be there? Only time would tell.

The heavy door had never seemed so foreboding. My fist, meant to knock with cocky assurance, merely met metal with a quiet rapping. I paused; took in a quick breath of the murky atmosphere that I was sure my aura created. Only then could I knock loud enough to be heard.

No response. No one home? I made to withdraw, even though I'd waited only seconds. Once my back turned, I heard the locks clicking out of place on the other side. I waited.

"Mr. Malfoy," his voice announced—the real voice, not the one within my head, and it sounded so much better to me, although I could not explain why, neither to myself nor to anyone who asked. "Is there a reason for this sudden intrusion?"

_'Intrusion?' _My heart had never sunk so low in my chest. I needed to conjure an excuse. Nothing good came to mind, except: "Yes... I need help."

"Help?"

I had never found it so hard to swallow before. I wanted to cry for him to cure me, lift the pressure from my shoulders with one of his carefully constructed potions... Potions! The smoke in my head cleared to reveal an alibi. "Yes, in Professor Slughorn's class, I'm finding myself troubled. The manner in which he teaches, I'm afraid I can't follow it so well."

"And you need me to..." He held his tongue immobile for a moment, in his usual way that drove me insane with wonder as to what would come next. Would he never say anything? Would he bend a few inches to capture my lips in his own?

By the time he finished his sentence, I was breathless with my thoughts. "Clarify?"

I nodded briskly. "Yes."

"Then come in." He extended an arm to express welcome, as he had done so often to me in the past.

-

"_Come in, Mr. Malfoy," he said, arm extended. So many books in my arms—too many for my small frame. I feigned a small trip, losing the texts to the floor. Snape aided in gathering them for me. Both of us, picking up books from the ground._

_I pretended to need help in rising from the floor. I grabbed his arm for support and found that I couldn't let go so easily even after we were both standing upright. I gazed into those raven eyes, but he looked away._

_Would he ever see me?  
_

-

As I leaned against his desk with both hands behind me, grasping the edge, Snape addressed me coolly: "Tell me. What potion is troubling you?"

"The, um, Draught of Living Death."

Snape's dark eyebrows shot up in surprise, the only sign of any possible amusement as no smile touched his lips. "Well, I had no idea that Horace would be teaching such a potion this year. Then again, he taught it to my own class. I'm not shocked that you could not accomplish this task."

"No one could," I added. "Of course, you did, didn't you? When you were taught here. I'm sure." Potter's snickering resounded in my thoughts. How often had he mistaken my genuine admiration for this man as sycophancy.

My professor nodded. "I had a little trouble, but managed."

"As did Potter."

Snape turned sharply, now facing me completely. My breath caught in my throat at our closeness, and I pushed away the urge to place my hand upon the smooth black clothing covering his chest. "Potter? He perfected the potion?"

I shrugged, words unable to leave my throat. I did not like where the conversation was going, but so long as it kept Severus near, then I could suffer speaking about 'the Chosen One.' As though he could break through my Occlumency, Snape took another step forward, his lips making their way so close to my ear that I could feel the heat of his breath. I leaned into the desk further, my eyelids sealed shut, lashes fluttering on my cheeks.

But his words shattered any possible fantasies. "That's not why you're here is it, now? You have the Dark Mark." As he pulled away, I felt anger roiling in my stomach. Once again, his intimacy was only a show for Voldemort.

"And what of it?" The fury seeped into my tone. I knew Snape heard it, but he did not allow for any loss of composure.

"I can offer you protection in your task, Mr. Malfoy."

_Protection? _I didn't need his help. I was able to undertake my own responsibilities. _But you came here for help, to take away from the loneliness. He's trying to help ease your burden. _But why? "What is your motive?"

"Motive?"

I clenched my fists. "You want to take away from my glory, don't you? All you want is to be the Dark Lord's favorite!" I pushed past him, charging to the door. He offered protection? From what? He had been of no help in stopping my thoughts from circling back to the one thing I had wanted to forget, if only for a moment.

Under my breath, my words came sharp but as quiet as I could, even though I would have given anything to scream them: "Speak to me like that... so close... all for _him_." As I stepped through the doorway, I allowed myself a quick glance backward.

And there was emotion in his eyes, for the first time. My withdrawal was so hasty, I could not pinpoint the exact feeling, but I knew it. The juxtaposition was so great from his usual impassiveness. Within those ebony orbs shone an emotion—for me?

I slammed the door behind me.

-

_I grabbed for the jar, knowing full well that it was not meant for me, for anyone other than my professor. His fingers snaked around my arm, pulling me toward him, robbing these forbidden ingredients from me._

"_You aren't to touch that." His words contained a harshness to them._

"_And why not?" I struggled against his hold, if only to make him grasp me tighter._

"_Because it is not _yours_." _

_The struggle continued for sometime—he, trying simply to reprimand me, while I only wanted to keep his touch, although rough, against me. Eventually he let go, and I cradled my arm, for it did hurt, but my fingertips did not press against the skin to soothe, but to savor. _

_To save whatever dignity I had, I stormed from the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I had glanced at my professor before leaving, but he'd been bent over a table, hidden away from me. Holding my arm, I hoped he wasn't too upset with me. How else would I continue my game the next day?_

-

The Slytherin Common Room was empty; I was alone once more. The softness of a chair greeted my aching muscles, as I tried, desperately, to empty my mind of the memories. _Make me hollow_. My fingers met my sleeve, hoping that this would somehow erase the small, past encounter with Severus. What a fool I had been. Raising my sleeve, I peered into the face of the Dark Mark, burned so as to show every detail to perfection.

How little I had known then, five years ago.

* * *

A/N (again): I hope that was all right; I'm having a little difficulty writing these beginning chapters because I refuse to rush into the plot. I do promise a bit more action in the next chapter, though.

Review please.


	3. Chapter Three

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Three

The windows of Hogwarts revealed a world outdoors that was forbidden to the students. So much was forbidden to us—the fresh air of the forest, the rights to certain spells—all meant to protect us, or so we had been told. If anything, the confines showed me how frightened the elder wizards were of the youth. We could be an unstoppable force, a rebellion on our own.

I glimpsed, from the corner of my eye, two first years, arms-linked, taking cautious, inexperienced steps through the murky hallway. Hidden in my alcove—the large, brick-laid windowpane before its opening of glass and iron bars—I observed their naivety. No recognizable pureblood features on either of their faces. No wonder this generation had no idea of their power: the power in numbers, in their ability to learn new tricks, newer ways.

_But how? _I asked myself silently. _By_ _following the Dark Lord? __His first revolution has passed.__ So, isn't that an old way? Isn't that regression? _A sigh escaped my lips as the first years passed through the sunlight streaming from my window. They noticed me, finally, and stared like the fools they were. Once they deemed themselves far enough from me—the shadowed loner—they filled each others' ears with whispers. I stifled a chuckle. Certainly not Slytherin.

As though hearing my call, footsteps announced the arrivals of my Slytherin companions. Crabbe and Goyle, headed by Pansy. I turned away from them, eyes returning to the horizon, past the school gates, over the autumn gold treetops.

"Where have you been?" So it was to be Pansy who spoke first. I should have expected as much. However, her voice, so laced with accusation, caught me off guard.

I could not meet her eyes. "Busy," came my one word reply.

"You don't look too busy, now," Crabbe piped in, his cheeks plump with what, I was sure, he thought to be a sly smile. Goyle took his place beside his friend, arms crossed, nodding in agreement.

I felt my lip curl at the sight of the two and, so that I wouldn't subject my eyes to their faces any longer, I turned to Pansy, hoping to find some form of understanding from at least her. But as she spoke, my hopes were dashed, forbidden, like the forest out of my reach. "You should come with us to Hogsmeade. I wanted to go shopping for some sweets, and maybe we could get some butter—"

"No," I retorted.

Pansy's mouth hung open, as though still set on finishing her interrupted sentence. Biting her tongue and straightening her shoulders, she asked, spite apparent in her tone: "And you have somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," I lied quicker than I could think up an explanation.

"Where is that?"

I hesitated. Goyle cleared his throat, triumphant. Since when had these people—my friends?—shown me such disrespect? In my despair over gaining power, gaining the Dark Lord's favor, had I been losing my influence over them? Pride flashed, white-hot, through my vision, and I stood, towering over them, if not in height, then by the sheer ferocity of my voice, in my blood. "Snape has requested to see me."

The trio exchanged glances. "Never mind, then," Crabbe said as he and Goyle resumed their stroll down the hallway. Pansy, however, was harder to sway.

"I'll walk you to his office," she offered with a smile. I began to wonder whether she was being cruel or simply wanted to be by my side for a small while. I shook my head; it didn't matter either way. "No? It's only a little ways away. No trouble at all, Draco."

"But he's not in his office; he's in his classroom." Lies were rolling off my tongue faster than ever before. I feared that I would never be able to keep track of them—after all, no one was able to claim the entirety of a waterfall in a single glass jar.

Grabbing my arm, she headed in the direction of the dungeons. "Come on, Draco. I can go to Hogsmeade whenever. I'd rather spend a little time with you."

Her flirtations made me uncomfortable, and I would have given anything to rip her arm from mine, as I was reminded of the oblivious first years from earlier. Be that as it may, there was no need to be overly unfair to Pansy. I _was _avoiding her to the best of my ability; I could at least allow her a moment with me if it was so wanted.

Even with Pansy beside me, what really occupied most of my attention was how I would explain yet another appearance at Snape's door. No reasonable excuses came to mind—no more aqua to be fed to the waterfall. I had just seen him yesterday and had exited in a fit likened to a tantrum. Severus's eyes might be so cold upon my face. I feared his anger more than anything else. _Please, let there be nothing more to add to my suffering. _

Once we reached the the dungeon door, I realized I could banish at least one weight in this mountain of pressure. Placing my hand upon the doorknob, I said: "See you around, Pansy."

No words sounded in reply. Despite my best efforts to avoid eye contact, I glanced at her fallen face, crumpled in confusion and perhaps anger. Another person angry with me—Pansy and possibly the man behind this door before me. "Goodbye, Draco," she stammered, turned away, and left. I leaned against the door, ice against me, and struggled to release myself from any guilt or shame.

Finally, having shed myself of Pansy's presence—both physically and mentally—I moved to open the door. _Perhaps_, I thought, _he won't be here. Why would he be in the classroom and not his office? _

But, of course, he was.

"Mr. Malfoy," he greeted familiarly from beside a cauldron, brewing from what I could see at this distance only steam. "I am more than surprised to see you." His features betrayed none of this 'surprise'.

I shut the door softly behind me, took a few steps forward. He didn't seem bitter about yesterday, and I could never help myself; I was drawn to this man, like a moth to flame, but around him I was more like the fire—moody and vicious. Let this be a pleasant visit, I begged silently.

"May I inquire as to why you are here?"

Taking my place beside him, I halted the wheels turning in my head, stopped the lies trying to be created. If I could not tell the truth, then I could avoid the untruths, in the least. "What potion is this?" I pointed to his cauldron, but my eyes scanned the other various covered pots, some transparent, revealing liquids of various hues, while one, in a bronze, embroidered vial caught my eye especially. From the steam holes, a faint mother-of-pearl smoke rose in spirals, barely visible, only seen by me as I stared so intently at it.

Snape stepped away from his potion. Heading to his desk, he answered with a brisk: "Calming draught." He seated himself, eyes to tests that needed grading.

-

_Victims of my vehemence, papers flew into the air, pots and cauldrons hit each other or crashed into the floor with a horrendous clamor. I wanted to scream. I wanted to be screamed at. _

"_Mr. Malfoy," Snape stated, calmly, monotonously. Where I was raging, he was a tranquil stream. Grasping me in his arms, he held me still. He didn't seem furious, even as I destroyed his classroom; no, he was _concerned.

_I thrashed against his hold, in a genuine attempt to get away. I was so ashamed. "Father will never forgive me for this," I moaned. "Being banned from Quidditch..." _

_Snape's arms were stronger than my fury, than my words. He placed a potion before my lips. "Drink," he murmured. Tears stinging my eyes, I sipped at the brew. "Now, calm down." And he let me go._

-

Fingertips running along the crevices and grooves of the design on the vial, I breathed in the scent of the spiraling smoke. I smelled the yew hedges of the Malfoy Manor, cream crackers, clean, satin sheets. My body was lured toward this potion, and I knew in that moment what it was: Amortentia—the love potion.

Of course, Severus would have one. He had been a Potions teacher, was prodigal master of all brews. I breathed in the scent again, glanced to my raven-haired professor. _You can't be serious, _I scolded myself. _You can't seriously be considering this. _As I debated whether or not to drink the Amortentia, I lifted the lid to the vial, and the scent grew stronger. Severus was still ever-unaware. The gold metal was cold to my lips. _Let me forget, for a little while. _The liquid was hot against my tongue, yet chilled the back of my throat. I drank until the last drop, which fell upon my lip. I licked it off, greedily, but in truth I was a little frightened. Nothing had happened to me yet, but I knew, soon, there would be a magnificent change.

I waited. _Make me obsessed to the point where I can't stop. Give me an excuse._

There was no defining moment to pinpoint when the potion took to coursing my blood, tainting its purity. Touch had never seemed so extraordinary, the smooth tabletop beneath my fingers, the flutter of the exams on Severus's desk, the softness of the black cloth covering his shoulder.

"Mr. Malfoy?" The quizzical tone in his voice drove my senses mad. Could he see it? The change in me, did he know the cause? _Can you see through me?_

"Severus," I said aloud, for the first time, testing the word on my tongue, savoring each syllable as I savored my professor's arm, tracing it from shoulder to wrist, to the hand resting on his desk.

Shock showed itself through his knitted together eyebrows—shock at my informality. "Excuse me?"

I slipped my arms around his waist, and he fell backward, leaning far into his chair. _Don't withdraw from me, _I pleaded. _Let me have what I want. _My lips found the tip of his nose, brushed against it, trailed down his cheek, hovered just before his lips. "Severus," I murmured, and he said nothing. I peered into his eyes, so dazed, before shutting my own and kissing him softly. Gently. He didn't stop me, but he did not join.

Impatience clawed at my insides. Why was he so tentative? The gentleness of my kiss grew harsh, rough; I wanted him now. I licked his bottom lip, felt him cave and open his mouth. _Unbelievable_. Severus was giving in? Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pressed into his lap, legs on either side of his, straddling him.

And then he broke away from me. I wanted to slap him for it, then cursed myself for thinking so. How could I think such things of _him_. "Draco," he addressed me in a puzzled tone. I smiled. No more Mr. Malfoy. "What is this?"

My mouth couldn't form words. It was good for only one thing. My lips embraced his once more, drinking in his taste. His tongue against mine. No power, no glory could make me feel this perfect.

But, his hand grasping my chin, Severus pushed me away again. "Draco?"

"Quiet," I whined. "Quiet."

He grabbed my shoulders, held me upright. "Why are you acting like this? As though you've been drugged. Are you insane? Kissing me like this..."

A slight giggle, sounding nothing like my normal self, escaped me. "But you kissed me, too, Severus." I set myself on capturing those flawless lips another time, even as they were set in a thin, hard line. He couldn't be upset with me. Not now.

Even as I thought this, his fists met my chest, shoving me away from him, forcing me back. Taken by surprise, this exertion drove me into the floor at his feet, a cry ripping from my throat. _He doesn't want me? _Panic attacked my stomach. _How? No, no, no. _My thoughts couldn't be pinned down; I struggled to keep my mind straight. I wasn't even thinking like myself anymore. _Please, Severus. Why? When I...I..._

"There is no reason to be acting like this, Mr. Malfoy," he stated coldly. His name for me made the tears fall from my gray eyes—the storm from the clouds. "Severus."

"You are not to address me with that name."

_Please, no. _"Severus."

"Are you listening to me?" He knelt to me, like I was child, eyes leveling. He read me so thoroughly with those eyes. What had he seen? What gave me away? Dilated pupils, languid blinking, shaking hands? In that moment, I knew he knew.

He stood abruptly, rushed to his potions, opening drawers and cupboards in a helter-skelter, pulling out ingredients. _No, don't. Don't cure me. _I came to his side, stepped between him and the table, where something was already brewing. "No need for this, Severus," I told him, trying to remain calm, my arms at his waist. "Come now." A smile tugged at my lips when he finally met my eye, and I caught it, this time I caught it. The emotion written there was desire. It was hidden well, but I understood it; after all, it was what I felt, too.

But, then, he reached around me, brought a cup to my lips. "Drink," he demanded. I shook my head, childishly. "Drink," he repeated with more strength in his voice. I turned my head away. He sighed as though resigning himself. His hand graced my cheek, pulling my eyes back to his. Softly, he added, "I made it for you. Please drink it, Draco. I made it for _you_." He stroked my lips with his fingertips, coaxing me.

How could I say no? My warm body felt like ice after the contents of the cup were drained. My limbs were lifeless, my head heavy. As I swam in darkness, my legs buckled from beneath me. Severus's arms held me up. My mind stayed aware of only that as I drifted back to normalcy in a sea of dizziness.

When my eyes opened again, I found myself on Snape's desk. I sat up quickly, too quickly, and a sharp pain stabbed at my temples.

"You won't feel like yourself until the morning. At least you'll be attending classes, then." Glancing behind me, I blushed in shame at seeing him. _My god, what had I been thinking? _"Next time," he chided, "don't drink things you don't understand, Mr. Malfoy."

If only he knew how much I had known. I gripped my sides, illness plaguing me suddenly. Pushing myself from the desk, I nearly ran away, just as I had last time, before a strange noise met my ears. Snape—laughing, but there was a nervousness in it, a fear almost.

"How much do you remember?" he asked.

I shook my head, finding it hard to swallow. If only I could take it all back. My first time kissing him—the result of force, the effect of a drug. "Nothing." The waterfall crushed me; I was drowning.

* * *

A/N: That was long! Well, I hope everyone is a little pleased by this chapter. I don't know how Draco really reacted to being banned from Quidditch. What I wrote is probably nowhere near how J.K. Rowling both wrote it (if she did) or thought it.

And as always, please review. Hope the love potion scene went well.


	4. Chapter Four

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Four

Unforgivable. I was beyond redemption—no longer teetering on the edge, shifting from left to right. No, I had crossed the line not when the Dark Mark was burned into my flesh but when I had dared to murmur the word '_Imperio_' into Madam Rosmerta's ear.

Now, I rested in plain sight, waiting for my plan to take action. Would it succeed? In truth, my hope was the only foundation on which I had to believe such utter nonsense that Dumbledore would receive the opal necklace, touch it, and perish. If only it _could _work; then so much would have been done, and there would be so little left for me to do.

Pansy's hand stroked my shoulder. She must have consumed toxic amounts of butterbeer, for the affection in her eyes was so evident I could drink it in by simply looking at her. I was finally where she had so longed me to be, alongside her and Crabbe and Goyle—all three of them to my chagrin—walking the streets of Hogsmeade.

Winter's snows chilled my skin, the ice flowers seeping through the thickness of my coat. I pressed my Slytherin scarf to my lips, which by now, I was sure, were some beautiful, but deadly, shade of purple. I'd rather be anywhere else, anywhere warm, but Hogsmeade was so populated. Eventually, I dared a sidestep into into The Three Broomsticks, allowing myself to be persuaded only so that Potter and his entourage could catch a glimpse of me. Spending the late evening by wasting galleon after gold galleon on sweets to be eaten in a matter of seconds, followed by sipping butterbeer with friends—the perfect alibi.

"Want another pint?" A moment passed before I noticed that Pansy was standing, her words directed at me. In her hands were both of our glass mugs. I nodded briskly, knowing full well that butterbeer didn't cause inebriation, but wanting desperately to forget the manner in which Snape behaved toward me in D.A.D.A. that morning. Or, more realistically, how he did not behave toward me—not a single glance and nothing near a smile tossed my way.

I'd asked the Amortentia to be an excuse but had not realized how well a love potion would disguise my motives. Brushing my lips with the brim of the freshly-filled, cold glass Pansy passed me, I wished she'd purchased the beverage hot instead of cold but made no move to correct her. The shiver clawed at my spine again when she placed her hand back upon my shoulder.

My butterbeer drained and Potter long since departed, I announced: "Let's get out of here."

-

Rumors buzzed like horseflies, here and there around the school, landing on my skin, twitching. How I longed to swat them away. I had failed so miserably, and Katie Bell was more than damaged by the opal necklace—her fatal condition instead of Dumbledore's death.

My life, my plans—everything was turning into an utter failure. I'd heard it already, whispered amongst Gryffindors, spread by, no doubt, Mr. Harry Potter himself: "What if Draco Malfoy hurt Katie? He's been looking so grim lately." And what was there to be pleasant about? Dumbledore alive and well, the vanishing cabinet still impossibly broken, Snape's ever-present avoidance of my eyes. Once again, in the Slytherin Common Room, my thoughts were full of nothing but that man. I buried my head against my crossed arms, leaning heavily against the armrest of the dark green chair I rested upon—_let me drown in this verdant color, fall into the forbidden forest, as I myself am unforgivable. I, myself, am—_

"What are you doing?" I flinched at the sarcastic voice. Lifting my head slowly, almost painfully, I stared into the face of Blaise Zabini. Inwardly, my eyes rolled, but I would never admit my disdain. This boy wasn't even worth that much of my time.

That being said, I righted myself in the chair. He _was _pureblood afterall; it was only because of this fact that we feigned respect for each other. "I'm a little tired, is all," I told him. "And you? Having fun watching me?"

He cocked a dark eyebrow. "No, I'm actually on my way to a party."

"A party?"

"You're so out of touch, Draco. What _have _you been doing lately? Disappearing for no reason, appearing only to stir up rumors." He paused for a moment, smirking, testing. Why had I boasted of the Dark Lord's mission to him on the train when we had first arrived at Hogwarts this year? Braced to defend myself, I met nothing but relief when he continued: "Professor Slughorn is holding a Christmas party, and I must go, being a member of the Slug Club, as I'm sure you know."

I breathed out a quiet sigh once he turned to leave. However, he wouldn't exit without his final word of conceit: "A shame you aren't coming." The wooden doors shut behind him with a click.

_No matter what anyone thinks of me_, I reasoned to myself, _they must think worse of him. _As my lividness dulled to that of mere candle flame, it was replaced by an idea. If Professor Slughorn was holding a Slug Club party, then Argus Filch might be preoccupied with watching over its proceedings.

The vanishing cabinet—I could work till the late hours of the night without the fear of being caught after curfew. Completing the task for the Dark Lord had taken priority in my life, my grades slipping, especially in my N.E.W.T. courses. At least my failures kept me from being invited to the Christmas festivities, and I could finish my work without being forced into celebrating with people I hardly cared for.

Or at least that was how I chose to comfort myself, my mind replaying Blaise's taunts on an incessant repeat.

-

The cathedral walls of the Room of Requirement greeted me with silence. Despite the fact that I had visited the storage area several times since given my task, the ominous air still seemed to swallow me whole, shadows looming tall, hidden ebony eyes drilling into my body, past the skin, past my skull. I shivered but found my way to the vanishing cabinet.

Grasping my wand from my jacket pocket, I chanted a quick: "_Avis_." Immediately, a small flock of canaries flew to my shoulders, claws digging in. I banished all but one, took its fragility into my hands. The pitiful bird squirmed in my grip, as though it understood its probable fate.

When testing experiments, it was best to use animals before humans. I placed the canary within the vanishing cabinet, closed the door. Praying silently, I held the door shut, palms shaking as though frightened that the cabinet would fling itself open. I chuckled softy—how weak I was.

Finally, I opened the door. It was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived, as my test was not yet complete. Closed once more—opened again. There the bird rested. Dead.

_So it is not yet fixed. _Tears stung my eyes. How was I supposed to manage this? My fingers twitched with the desire to slam the vanishing cabinet into the stone castle floor, but at the last moment, I realized this would only cause further damage to the device. Then, I would be back at square one.

Bracing myself against the wooden door of the cabinet, I crumpled to the floor. _Time,_ I thought. _I needed more time. _So many plans I had brewing, but even if I managed to end Dumbledore's life, the job would only be half-done. I had to find a way to let the Death Eaters in.

All alone—I had to do this in isolation. _What of Severus? _I shuddered, remembering his laughter after my revival from the Amortentia. He had offered protection. _I don't need anyone's help._

_Especially not _his_._

-

The hallways had been so quiet, quite fitting to the state of my thoughts, until I passed near the Christmas Party. Bright red lights spilled from the doorway, fast talking, content giggling. _Work before play_, I reminded myself, even as a dull, painful feeling lurked in my chest.

Suddenly, fingers dug into the black of my jacket, sinking into my arm. I was yanked backward, a yelp escaping my lips. I turned to see Argus Filch, his rotten teeth bared at me like he was a rabid mutt who had just caught the unlucky cat. I tried to struggle against him, wanting nothing of his touching me. How unlike my encounters with Severus, I mused.

Tiredness weighed on my limbs. I could practically feel the pallor in my skin, the dark circles decorating my gray eyes. There was nothing I could do as I was dragged into the scarlet lights and gold furnishings of Slughorn's lavish get together.

"Let go of me," I growled. How grand, people were _staring_. What new rumors would be spread tonight?

Slughorn, himself, approached us. "What is all this?" he asked in his obnoxious, showman voice. A silly grin plastered to his melted face, he took another sip of mead from his glass. _Mead_, I thought. _His favorite_.

"Found the boy trying to crash the party."

To my right I caught a glimpse of Potter, glaring at me suspiciously. "I just wanted," I said hurriedly, ashamed even before the words left my mouth, "to see how it all looked."

Slughorn chuckled drunkenly. "Well, then, my boy, you are invited to stay! After all, who could stay away from a party like this."

Filch released my arm, and I straightened my blazer, trying to maintain a somewhat regal stature before the countless pairs of mocking eyes. However, my freedom ended abruptly, as Snape appeared beside me, his hand now in place of Filch's.

"I need to have a word with the boy," he announced to Slughorn and Filch, but his eyes were set on me. Attention from him, finally, but not in the way I desired. It seemed I never got what I wanted from Severus exactly how I wanted it.

Stepping calmly and carefully away from the party, Snape revealed no signs of his emotions. His features were blank, until we reached an abandoned hallway. Pushing me against the wall, he exclaimed, but in a constricted tone: "What were you thinking?"

My skin crawled, shocked by his harsh actions, his viciousness. "I-I wasn't—"

"That's right," he interrupted with a hiss. "You weren't thinking. Don't think I don't know about the necklace, either, Draco. The Dark Lord gave you a mission, why haven't you completed it? If you need help..." He stepped away from me for a second, as though deciding on what to say next. With a nod, he continued: "Listen to me. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco..."

My eyes widened at yet another surprise. He'd made the Vow? For me? Leaning into the wall, I tried to make sense of what he had told me, but then I understood his words perfectly. He swore to my _mother_. She must have convinced him. Never anything for me; never. "Looks like you'll have to break it, then," I spat. Never anything for me; always anger from me to him. "I don't need your protection! I've got a plan, and it's going to work. It's just taking a little longer than I expected!"

Snape sucked in a quick breath, his eyes capturing mine in a deep embrace. I laughed. "Don't look at me that way! I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."

"Bellatrix?" he muttered to himself, realizing exactly how I had learned my Occlumency. _That's right_, I screamed in my mind, as I moved to retreat from his gaze, his presence. _Get away from me. Stay away from my thoughts. _His hands shoved me back against the wall, and his chest pressed against mine. How many times had we argued like this? Always engaged in heated debates because of me. _Only so I could feel you against me_. With Severus's words biting at my ears, I wondered whether I was provoking him purposely, habitually, if only for my own pleasure—he cared enough to argue, whereas with most others his nonchalance could never be unveiled.

-

_He'd fallen asleep, simply resting upon his desk. I didn't make a sound, only stepped closer to his dormant figure. How ashamed he'd be if he'd known how vulnerable he had made himself in front of me. _

_I leaned to his side. He would never have to know. There was no consciousness on his part, no guilt for neither him nor myself. I lowered my lips to his ashen cheek, placed an innocent kiss upon his skin. He breathed out slowly, and I flattered myself into thinking it was from pleasure._

_Leave him alone, now; let him believe I was never here when he fell asleep. But Severus, I was. I was always there._

-

Then, a silence consumed us, and for a moment I felt as though we were being watched, but there was no one there—only the two of us. Our closeness was driving me mad with hatred, and yet I wanted nothing more but to slip my arms around his neck, kiss him like before. To be intoxicated by Amortentia...if only. There was no excuse for me now.

Severus's lips were directly in front of mine. _Please_, I thought hungrily, _leave me, before I make a mockery of myself. _

"Are you acting this way," Severus asked, so quietly, so evenly—his voice a melody to me, beckoning me closer, "because of your father's imprisonment?"

The anger flared again, impossible to quail. I struck at his arms, freed myself from him. "You know nothing!" I shouted. "Leave me alone. I never want to speak with you again."

I spoke such hurtful words, so many things I did not mean. Why could I not be just a child again, placing my hand upon his knee, even if all he had done was ignore me. At least there had been contact. Now, all of this, was it only about power? Glory?

What was it about to me? My mind wandered to polar opposites. There was my family, the Dark Lord. Then, always present, there were those raven eyes, oppressing me, torturing me, instilling in me nothing but desire—and hatred.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the lack of romance in this chapter, everyone, but I refuse to give up storyline for love scenes. I do promise a bit more next chapter though, and even more to follow. Let me remind you: This story _is _rated M.

I hope you liked the chapter anyway, and please review—the good, the bad, and the ugly.


	5. Chapter Five

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Five

Failure had grown upon me, like a distasteful bacteria, a malady, a horrible virus intruding. The sickness had entered through my useless hands—my incapability to succeed in my mission. First, the disaster with the opal necklace. Sure, no one had died, and especially not Dumbledore, but Katie Bell had been so thoroughly damaged, locked away, recovering. I had cared nothing about her before, but now she rested in my mind, compartmentalized in that special, horrid drawer where all that must remind me of my illness, Failure, resided.

Beside Katie in my mental prison was someone who I would give anything to rid myself of: Ron Weasley. Why of all people did _he_, the Blood Traitor, have to become a victim of my failure? Why does he have to torment my mind?

_And why do rumors have to stir, with Potter's finger forever pointing in my direction? _

Now, my plans had crumbled. The cursed necklace had been thwarted, and the poisoned mead had been discovered before Slughorn could gift it to Dumbledore. How else was I supposed to complete my task? The Dark Mark burned into my flesh seemed to dim to an even deeper black as I stared into its face. It, too, was aware of my failure.

I could not help it. I was trying, but attempted assassination was not good enough. Dumbledore had to meet his demise, by my hand and no other, and only then would the Malfoy name be restored. _Is it all_, I thought miserably to myself, _truly worth it in the end now? Am I capable? _

_Am I worthy?_

-

Shaking myself off, discarding my self-pity, I rose from my bed, shivering as my bare feet touched the cold stone floor. I had woken late, or, in actuality, I had chosen to leave my bed after everyone else. All of the other Slytherins had already dressed and departed for breakfast. I, on the other hand, was only just slipping out of my night clothes and into a more uniform style of dress.

Being a little tardy to breakfast wouldn't cost Slytherin too many points, or any points at all; however, I still did not want to take the chance of igniting any more suspicion toward me. Fulfilling my mission was difficult enough without being watched.

The dining hall: I remembered when I first walked into this room. The bronzes and golds, glowing lights and blazing fires had mesmerized me. Now its beauty seemed to have dulled, darkened. Or perhaps that was only my outlook: dark, for the Dark Lord. Being a Death Eater was taking more out of me than I had been prepared to give, but I was ready. I straightened the collar of my blazer and entered the hall, made my way to the table. Strong, proud, pureblood. No one could steal those things from me.

Seating myself beside Crabbe, Pansy across from me, Goyle beside her, I held my head high. Taking sips from my goblet and taking bites from my plate, I paid no mind to their sideways glances. I noticed Weasley missing from Potter's table and shrugged off his displacement. What did it matter to me anyway?

As the meal wore on, I realized how mechanical I had become. Two drinks of water, one bite of food. On and on, an endless cycle, if only to keep me sane with monotony. Monotonous—the word stuck a chord in my chest; my insides clenched, my mind instantly wandering to the sound of Snape's voice. My eyes could not be stopped from glancing toward the feasting professors, amongst them a solemn pale man who'd argued with me several nights ago.

His raven eyes met mine, instantaneously, and I tore away my gaze, cursing myself for my instinctual reaction. How obvious! He must think me such a child; yet I swore that I could feel myself being observed, not by Potter, not by my companions. No, this chilling sensation stemmed from my professor's direction. Slowly, tentatively, I shifted my sight toward him again.

Caught, once more, or was it I who had discovered his stare? He didn't turn away, however, simply blinked once or twice in my direction, and I thought I'd gone mad when I saw a slight, ever so faint, smile touch his lips—only on one side of his mouth, a mere smirk.

But I'd never been so breathless.

This was unlike the last, only, time he'd ever shown me a smile, when he'd looked upon me as simply a new cohort of the Dark Lord. A blush crept into my cheeks, and just as before, I was the one who broke our gaze.

"Are you all right?" Pansy asked me, unaware of my sly encounter with Severus.

I nodded, perhaps truly meaning my words as I spoke them: "Yes, I'm fine."

-

Nonverbals spells were all Snape seemed to concentrate on as our D.A.D.A. professor, with specifics against the Death Eaters. His tone, droning on about the best way to execute our defence spells, over and over, accompanied my thoughts as his smile played in my memories. My mind could not keep still.

-

"_I think _you _should be headmaster, Professor," I told him, pleased when he seemed somewhat flattered by my words. _

_But he tsk-ed me softly. "You've told me this before, Mr. Malfoy."_

_My bookbag was heavy; I heaved it onto his desk, the sound of books smacking against each other filling the quiet room. No one there but us. "And it's still just as true." I stepped closer. "You'd do a better job of it. You're better at it all, at curses and hexes and potions. I'm sure, right?"_

"_I've tried my hand at many curses."_

_I grinned. "See, I told you."_

"_I'm meant for other things..."_

_By the time he finished blinking, I had already rested my hand upon his knee, like before, when I was in my first year. My favorite spot—so intimate. "It's all well," I purred. "I wouldn't want to lose you as my professor, anyway." _

"_Or you as my student." His words were far more than I had ever anticipated, more affection in them than I'd been given from him in all these years. I had been braced for a simple glance in my direction or a blatant refusal to look at me at all. But, no, he always spoiled me when I didn't see it coming. _

_I left for my next class, content with what little happiness that had been lent to me. I hadn't been so hard to please, then._

-

The students filed out the door, and just like before I'd ever been presented with the Dark Mark, I waited to speak with Severus, ready to forgive, to forget, but when I went to him, how the tables turned.

"After breakfast, Professor Slughorn informed me about the mystery of the poisoned mead," he said abruptly. "I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Malfoy. Is this the brilliant plan that you had devised? That you told me would take but a 'little more time'?"

Tainted—it all was. The smile, my hope, destroyed by that slothful, decrepit Potions "master." My resentment lodged in my throat. I couldn't even fake a response, I was caught so off guard.

"So you come now," I had never heard such spite in his voice—it hurt to hear it, "to ask for my help? Now, you come. After failing so many times?"

I managed to shake my head. My eyes stung. _How pathetic_, I told myself. _Will you really cry? Right here? _Not in front of him, I decided. Things had gone so horribly. _Severus, you are my jinx. _

"Still too proud to admit you can't do this on your own?" he questioned. I could not respond; my mind set fully to the task of halting my tears, to filling myself with self-disgust for my weakness. "Draco?" Had he seen it? My wishful thinking always placed him in such a light that he knew each secret behind my every move, every breath. Had he seen how frightened I was? His voice had become so soft. "Draco?" he repeated.

_Pride_, I reminded myself, as I turned my back to him. _Honor. _I marched to the door. _Don't let him see you cry._

Through the winding hallways, past so many doors, so many hidden passageways. If someone was standing in that shadow, I would never know. My eyes were blurry, vision like toxic firewhiskey filling my mouth, my churning stomach. Too many held in emotions. I was so pathetic. Why couldn't I be more like my father?

Locked away in Azkaban?

Retreating into the cold bathroom, I leaned against the sink, my reflection trapped in mirrors. Dark blue, it was all so navy and black—icy tile, stone walls. The tears slipped past my tightly shut eyelids. I couldn't bear to look at myself. I bent toward the sink, sobs escaping my chest. A broken faucet, I cried my tears like running water into the porcelain beneath me. One way to release the waterfall of lies that day by day I had lost myself in, until it filled my lungs, gasping for air.

_This is me_, I told myself silently, my face in the mirror's eye. Pale, dark bruises of insomnia obscuring my gray irises, hair like ghosts. _Learn to deal with it. _

And in a flash I saw him: Potter, spying. As though my embarrassment could not have grown enough. No, now my shame transformed to fury. I felt the power vibrate as curses through my arms, to the extension of my wand. _Kill him_, I thought, wanting nothing more than to lose all control.

The Gryffindor dodged, struck back. Back and forth between us two, hitting pipes, water flying. The waterfall was coming for me, sent by my tears, _coming for me_. If I was already damned, then there was nothing to hold me back.

So fast, it could all end. Inhale, the word on my tongue, I began the chant: "_Cruci_—"

"_Sectumsempra_!"

I'd never heard such a curse before; I'd never felt pain like this. I'd never felt death. Blood—I could smell it, so strong. I lifted my hand to my chest, a sticky crimson on my palm. I couldn't stand, with each move the pain growing more intense, more unbearable. Cold. I was cold. Ice water on my skin.

Then, warmth? _Are final moments of life so warm? _A presence, I swore I could see a shadow cross over the darkness of my shut eyes. Slowly, in this blur of pain, I peered through my eyelashes and saw him. Snape, here for me. _Severus. _

His lips mumbled counter-curses, his breath upon my skin, his hands upon my bleeding chest. Was the pressure being relieved? Was I being offered another chance? I was lifted into his arms. _Severus_. I wanted to speak his name, but it was all too much.

"Stay here," was the first coherent sound I heard. His voice, so sharp and harsh. He was angry at Potter. For me.

I blacked out.

-

A coughing fit wracked my chest. Revival—I knew it, ridding myself of the waterfall in my lungs. My eyes to the ceiling, I saw the stone first, then the window across the foot of my bed. White sheets against my white skin. Next to my hand was another of the same complexion. A perfect alabaster.

"Severus?" I whispered, begged, turned my head to find his face, those raven eyes embracing mine.

I counted only a moment before he replied. "You shouldn't scar." And although it was so little, it meant so much for him not to say, "Don't speak to me as a familiar." Without hesitation, I took his hand in mine. Another surprise—he didn't break my hold.

"I nearly died."

"You should've died, had I not been following you."

"You followed me?"

He nodded. "I was worried." A pause. "I feel as though I was mistaken earlier, Draco." My heart skipped a beat. '_Draco', he said. _"Perhaps, I shouldn't have been so hard on you. Perhaps, you'd come to talk to me of something else?"

"You knew that without Legilimency?" I tried to summon a laugh but found myself too weak for it.

Either I was delirious or he shifted closer. His hand gripped mine tighter. "Draco," he murmured. "I don't know if you think me to care nothing for you but in terms of the Dark Lord's mission. I think this may be the way you see me. It is not. Draco, if all our years have not shown you that, then I must have done something to make you believe otherwise."

_A smile, _I remembered. _A smile I thought you'd given me, but was followed by nothing but your gaze to the Dark Mark. How paranoid I'd been. _"I'm sorry."

He scoffed. "Don't apologize."

There was nothing more to be said. He sat there, and I knew in these moments if I did not capture what I wanted, then there would never be another chance. If I let him go, then Severus would return to his office, to his work, and glance at me in class, but he would never speak to me again as he was now. He would never smile.

I wanted to see a smile upon those lips. I wanted to have those lips upon mine. Despite the pain in my chest and face, I crossed the distance between us without a single wince, my mind racing yet my heart silent—it knew I was making the right choice.

Without the potency of Amortentia, Severus's kiss felt so much more _real_. I placed my hand upon his cheek, and he steadied my back with his. It wasn't until he ran his tongue ever so slightly against my bottom lip that I realized he was responding, that he might have been wanting this, too, but had been awaiting my permission. I let him slip his tongue into my mouth and didn't bother fighting for dominance. I allowed myself to be swallowed in this wave of understanding—Severus desired me.

I shifted myself closer to him, but he was in his chair, and I on the bed. One of us would have to move. Severus pressed both of his palms against my side, pushed me back into my pillow, and leaned into me, nuzzled me into the softness of the mattress. I shivered in pleasure as his hands traveled beneath my shirt, fingertips trailing against the sensitive skin of my newly healed flesh. My lips traveled away from his, trailing soft kisses along his jaw to his neck. I bit down, and my stomach fluttered as a moan escaped Severus. He gripped me tighter; so tight, I could not help but cry out in pain as my invisible wounds screamed their resistance.

Immediately, he pulled away. My breath was shaking as my hands refused to leave his skin even as he reseated himself in his chair. I laced our fingers together. He watched me carefully, and I understood he wanted me to speak.

"When I kissed you before," I began, saying the first thing that came to mind, "I _had _taken the love potion, but that wasn't why I kissed you. I'd wanted to. I'd just...needed an excuse."

He nodded slowly. Then, "I had hoped so." And if I'd needed any more proof of his returning my affections, there it was, there _he _was, completely exposed.

"You need your rest," he told me, and as though he had cast a spell, exhaustion suddenly weighed upon my limbs. "I left your assailant in the bathroom to wait on me."

"Let him wait," I mumbled, even as my mind began to wander far from lucidity.

He kissed my forehead. "I'll find you later," he said, and I swore that he smiled, or maybe that was just a dream, but if it was true, for once it was a whole smile, and one meant only for me, with no motive. Only to let me know that I was wanted in return.

* * *

A/N: Another long chapter. Well now, it's about time Severus came around! I hope you enjoyed this chapter; it was rather dramatic—very suspenseful.

**Review**, please. It is most necessary.


	6. Chapter Six

**Warning**:

This story is rated M, as indicated in the first chapter, for male on male relations.

* * *

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Six

My heart pounded in my chest, one hundred beats per second, I swore, just like the bird perched on my shoulder: my new best friend. The vanishing cabinet—it had worked. I petted the top of the canary's head, marveled at how the shadows cast its pale yellow plumage as a powder blue. The little thing chirruped, despite its broken wing.

So the cabinet wasn't perfect, but its hollow wooden walls had transported my avian from Borgin & Burkes and back to me. I wanted to sing with him; I wanted press myself into the cabinet's interior and fly to elsewhere.

But, no, I shut the cabinet doors and placed my bird in the antique cage to my right. I could never banish this summoning. May the silver, cast iron rivulets of bars hold my good luck charm safe until my next return.

And may my next attempt be fully successful.

-

Somehow, my incident with Potter in the bathroom had remained a secret between the two of us, Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and whomever they told. Perhaps that selection was rather lengthy, but for the whole of Hogwarts not to have learned of the encounter—that was simply enough for me. I would stay under the radar, watch my steps with even more caution from now on. I was so close.

My wounds had healed completely. Passing by an intricate mirror in the hallway, I paused to observe the smoothness of the skin on my face. No cicatrices in sight. My chest and collarbone were hidden by my black turtleneck, but I knew that beneath, no scars adorned me. I had been fortunate not do die and even more so not to be a memorandum,declaring evidence of the nearly fatal reminder of my mortality.

I had not seen Severus since our kiss—the day before yesterday—and this more than irked me. Had he not promised to find me? Although the rendezvous had occurred on the last day of classes for the week, certainly he would still have attempted to meet me, in some way, during the long weekend?

Maybe there was regret floundering in his conscience?

I shook my head. Today was _my _day—the surprising cooperation of the vanishing cabinet, the sky blooming a flawless hyacinth blue. If Snape would not come to me, then I would discover his whereabouts.

In all actuality, even with the brilliant start to my day, I was a bit taken aback by my content temperament. I had felt happiness when with Severus in the infirmary, but the emotion had been diluted by the weakness and exhaustion weighing on my bones. Before then, happiness had not really touched me. Any pleasantries I had been exposed to had all been strangled by the ever-suffocating pressure of my task. Sipping butterbeer, watching the Quidditch matches, even fantasizing of childish dalliances with Snape—despite these distractions, the Dark Lord and my family's situation had always slipped into the cracks of my carefully constructed wall, wearing down the stone, until it bled urgency, morphing hairline fractures into gaping fissures, until at my feet stood nothing but the broken bits of a failed project—my disappointments the ideal wrecking ball to my crumbling fortress of tomorrow's hope.

_But the fortress has been rebuilt, the moat a little wider_. Those were my thoughts as I approached my professor's office door. Two raps upon the cool metal were awarded with no reply. I glanced behind my shoulder at the sunlight streaming in the through window on the far side of the hallway. The glass had been angled upward, practically meeting the ceiling in order to offer any of nature's rays access to the dungeons that were etched into the clay earth.

I knocked thrice more before my resolve lessened. Standing before the door, I pushed my lips into a thin line, bit the flesh of my cheek. Either he wasn't inside, or he was avoiding company. I fought against my naturally pessimistic mentality.

"Why hello there, boy!" cried a booming voice from behind, so loud I flinched. Covering the streaming sunlight stood none other than the obnoxious replacement to Professor Snape's old curriculum: Horace Slughorn.

I did not bother to greet him officially, simply offered a nod, shifting myself away from him and toward the other side of the hallway, but he would not let me go so easily.

"Are you looking for Severus?"

I considered lying to him but couldn't conjure a reason as to why it would be necessary. He didn't know of the kiss I had shared with the professor. There would be no harm in speaking of him to another—it was not taboo to search for a teacher. "Yes."

"Well, he isn't here, now is he?"

"No." One-word responses were all I could manage through gritted teeth. The man's voice was positively earsplitting, so shrill for an adult, and reeking of facetiousness.

A sloppy grin covered his face. "Why, yes. I saw him not too long ago, walking rather briskly toward the tower steps. Didn't even bother to holler a proper 'Hullo'! So, of course, I, being unable to see a comrade pass by, offered my greetings. When interrupted, however, he seemed rather exasperated at being stopped."

My lip curled involuntarily. "I cannot imagine why," I commented, struggling to maintain politeness in my voice—best to hide the sarcasm for now.

"I know!" I cringed as his last word dragged to form a pronunciation more like "knoooooow." He seemed to notice it himself and paused for a moment, as though letting the vowel sound resonate to its full extent in my eardrums—incessant vibrations of noise. "After inquiring, though, he barked a rushed explanation. Well, I'm sure you'd like to hear what he said, now wouldn't you, boy."

Slughorn could talk a mile a minute, yet never arrive at his point. Tired of the circumlocution, I prompted him with quick: "Do tell."

He scratched the rolls of excess fat on his neck and straightened his bow tie. "You won't be finding him neither here nor in his classroom anytime soon. He said he had a summons with the headmaster, that he did. Important affairs to discuss, it seems."

A groan disguised as a sigh escaped me. All this talk for only bad news. I understood that it was Snape's mission to pose as a member of the Order, but honestly, the Dark Lord's tasks always seemed to obstruct my personal affairs.

A cloud passed over the sun, dimming the light from the window that Slughorn still somewhat blocked. _Perhaps that is the general idea, _I wondered. _Personal affairs are kept to the minimum when under the Dark Lord's rule. _My mind wandered to my aunt, Bellatrix. She had become the perfect Death Eater, the ideal servant, and the object of affection that she held most dear was Voldemort himself. Pledging allegiance to her Lord had resulted in obsession, like in the Greek myth in which Narcissus's dedication to himself beckoned him to the lake's reflection, if only to drown by his fixation with his own beloved face.

As though sensing my tangent thoughts, Slughorn mumbled his goodbyes and headed off toward the deeper dungeons, most likely to his own office. The solitude that I was enveloped in after his departure was, for once, happily received. Rather a thousand broken vanishing cabinets than another minute in his presence.

But his topic of discussion had brought me needed, if not well-liked, information. Snape with Dumbledore—at times I didn't understand why my professor hadn't been given the task to assassinate the headmaster. If he was otherwise engaged, then I'd have to wait to speak with him. A lingering memory of his lips upon mine sent my heart retreating for cover beneath my ribs. Wait until when? Tomorrow's classes? Not the best place to engage him in conversation—or more of what I hoped for. If he was to be preoccupied for the day, I decided I would find him later, after hours.

It was a little known fact that each professor's sleeping quarters were located behind what could be misconstrued as a mere storage closet door in his or her office. I'd have to play sneak again, but it was a game I was getting used to.

And the results this time could be more than appetizing. I could be patient.

-

_Snape drummed his fingers against the cauldron in impatience, not fed up with the brew but with my inability to concoct flawless Liquid Luck. _

"_We've been working several months on this potion, and yet," his temper had not flared but by the tense angle at which he held his head, I feared that I was nearly pushing my luck, "it seems you are trying to do everything possible as to destroy our progress."_

_Slowly turning the ladle, I averted my eyes from him. "If Felix Felicis was so easy to perfect, then everyone would have a full bottle by now."_

_The drumming grew harsher. My grip on the ladle tightened in attempt to stop my hand from shaking. No one ever received private lessons from Snape, and yet here I was, a fourth year, and still unable to please him. The strumming echoed in my ears, louder and louder. I could see it in my eyes, taste its annoyance. My fingers glided over his, if only to stop it, if only to touch him._

_And he halted. After a second too long, he took his hand away. "We will resume tomorrow afternoon." _

_Of course we would._

-

Argus Filch had caught me once this year, and I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. My gray eyes seemed to adjust to the murkiness around me—dim eyes to dim surroundings. Dark gray shadows of midnight pooling at my feet like chains, but instead of pulling me down, these illusion bonds drew me onward. Down the stairs, fingers slipping down worn banisters, over granite walls. My eyes glimpsed the angled window, and I was captivated, as though the moon glowing past the glass was the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel.

Once I reached the door to his office, I froze—not from the icy iron door but from the realization that I could not knock. Should Argus be anywhere nearby, he'd be alerted by the quietest of sounds, and I would be reprimanded, all of my surreptitious handiwork would be wasted, and Slytherin House's points horrendously murdered.

Either I withdrew or brazenly walked inside. I weighed my options and knew that leaving was most likely the best choice, but then, in the theater of my memory, I could see Snape pressed against me on the hospital bed, our fingers laced together, his moan as my lips grazed his neck.

To my surprise, the door wasn't locked.

Of course, this was probably because the door to his more private quarters would be, but still, my breath caught in my throat as the door opened without the slightest creak. I slowly shut it behind me before stepping into the dark office. A single candle on his desk lit the cold room, and from its light I could barely make out the floor just beneath my feet and the white clouds of smoke my breath created in the chill.

Hesitantly, and with small steps, I found my way to the candle, and, having lifted it into my hands and shining its light in all directions, discovered, with squinted eyes, the whereabouts of the "storage closet" door. Replacing the candle on the desk, I tip-toed to and pressed my hand against the oak and quickly located the doorknob. With a slight rattle, I discovered it locked.

Knocking could not be avoided this time. Still, I made it quiet, so as not to dangerously alert Severus and not call any attention, be it minuscule, to the room. _Tap tap tap. _I held my breath.

But then I felt the knob turning beneath my fingers and the door sliding from outstretched palm. "Who's there?" Snape murmured, before his eyes adjusted and he saw the pallor of my complexion, the anticipation in my eyes. "Draco?"

Arriving here had been simple enough, but now that I had achieved my goal of finding myself with Severus, alone, my hands began to shake with nervousness. "Hey," I replied.

Flames flickered from a fireplace within his quarters. By this light, I could see Severus raise an eyebrow and—although I wasn't completely certain—a faint flush in his alabaster skin. "What is all of this about, then, Mr. Malfoy?"

His reversion to a more proper greeting caused my skin to crawl a little, but I did not show any indication of bitterness or doubt in my face. "You said you'd find me," I answered truthfully. "So I found you."

No reply came from Snape's lips; instead, he chose to stare, as though unbelieving, into my eyes, then over my whole appearance: fully dressed, blazer, turtleneck, trousers and shoes, all in black. Wordlessly, he opened the door so as to let me in. The room was much warmer than his office, with the fireplace and all, and after a moment spent being mesmerized by the dancing flames, I took in the decorative side of the room.

Blackwood lounge furniture, silver and green Slytherin tapestries, and ebon sheets on a canopy bed—in all it was predictable, matching Hogwarts's fashion in every which way. I ran my fingertips along the mantel—no photos, no keepsakes decorating the shelf. On the far end, I came upon a glass bottle, engraved in silver lettering on a white label: firewhiskey. I glanced away, quickly, almost self-conscious that I had imposed upon his privacy in this way, and concentrated on the burning embers.

"So," Snape began, and I tore my eyes from the glowing hearth to meet his raven irises, "I suppose there is much to be said."

"Yeah."

An awkward silence pressed against us. I began to wonder if I'd made a mistake in coming, but then Severus strode toward me, still in his robes that billowed at his ankles. Beside me, he reached an arm toward me, his fingertips fluttering across my cheek, my hair, past me and to the mantel, from which he recovered his firewhiskey. He uncorked the already opened bottle and approached the several small glasses he had lined up on the chest at the foot of his bed.

He filled one glass halfway. "Would you like a bit?" he questioned, even though I had yet to turn seventeen until June. Be that as it may, there wasn't a single thread of refusal in my weaving thoughts, and I nodded, desperately resisting any apparent eagerness. Upon my affirmation, he tipped the bottle to fill up another cup, but once again only halfway with the caramel liquid.

As he handed me my glass, I suddenly understood where the flush in his cheeks had stemmed from. He clinked ours together before swallowing nearly half the toxic drink in one gulp. The beverage was so alcoholic that I had trouble with more than a few sips, the smell of it making my nose tingle. Even from the little that I had consumed, I could already feel a slight warmth in my chest. Once I'd taken a second go at the drink, I could feel a heat like a furnace, like the flames dancing before my eyes in the fireplace.

Severus was already refilling his glass. "Draco," he said softly, back to informalities, but there was no slur to his voice—to my relief. "You do realize the implications of us doing anything near what happened in the infirmary two nights ago?"

I sipped a little more before answering. "I suppose, but...there are worse things. We are Death Eaters, after all."

Severus chuckled softly. "You make a good point." He plucked my empty glass from my hands and filled it to the brim with the warm whiskey before handing it back. "Nevertheless..."

"I didn't come here to talk about that," I interrupted.

"Oh, and what _did _you come here to say?"

The silence came upon us again. Severus had finished his second glass, while I was beginning to feel the full effects of mine. Dizziness swam into my vision, and the warmth had spread about to every part of my body. I understood why it was called _fire_whiskey. I took off my jacket without thinking. Immediately, Severus took it from me and tossed it upon the chest, beside the glasses winking in the firelight and bathing in the shadows. A shadow decorated the side of Severus's face, and I couldn't help but running my fingers along the darkened lines of his features. He caught my hand in his own, brought it to his lips. When he opened is mouth to kiss it, I breathed in the faint scent of the whiskey in my free hand and wondered if he was intoxicated.

Before I could ask, he reached around me again, placing his drink upon the mantle, taking my own and putting it beside his. "Draco?" he asked, and to me his voice sounded like a purr, vibrating through me, accentuating the heat in my body. At this proximity, it took all of my power to keep myself from rubbing against him, and yet I couldn't think of any reason as to why I shouldn't. "How are you feeling?"

I shut my eyes, fighting against my suddenly lowered inhibitions. "Um," I mumbled, "I'm all right."

"Do you want to talk?"

"No."

"Then, what did you come here for?" There was amusement in his voice, and I couldn't believe how presumptuous his tone sounded. I decided that, no matter how easy it was for me to feel drunk, no man could take more than two glasses of firewhiskey without being under some level, be it big or small, of inebriation. I wondered how much Severus had consumed before I had arrived.

I shook my head. I needed to answer his question but couldn't remember what he'd asked; so, in response, I murmured a simple, "Mmm?" My hands did the talking for me, latching themselves to his hips, my thumbs running circles against the softness of his robes. _I wonder how soft he is beneath them._

"'Mmm?'" he repeated, mocking me. It took me a moment to focus my eyes to see it: he was smiling. _My, my, _I thought, _he has to be somewhat liquored up. _Traveling down the length of my sleeves, his hands found my own at his waist. "Why are you here, Draco?"

I remembered the many times I had placed my hand upon his knee; the Amortentia induced obsession; the hospital bed from two nights ago. Why had I come? I took my hands from his, wrapped my arms around his neck. I knew he already knew.

His lips fell upon mine before I could make the first move. The heat in my body felt like an eruption as his hands immediately crawled beneath my shirt. It took all of my concentration to perfect our embrace. I kissed the side of his mouth, trailed my tongue across his bottom lip. He opened his mouth without hesitation, allowed me to enter. While he dominated my body, he was submissive toward me in the kiss. I knotted my fingers in his hair, yanking on the strands. He pulled away for a moment in shock, but then dove back in, our tongues brushing against each other roughly, his hands torturing the skin of my lower abdomen.

Finally, we both stopped for breath, but after I'd inhaled only once, I brought my fingers to the buttons of his shirt. Fumbling on them, he smiled beside himself and took my hands away, fiddling with the first several buttons before exposing the upper half of his ivory chest. If my skin looked as white and desirable as his, then I pleasurably feared for what he would do to me, as I brought my lips to his collarbone and bit playfully, but forcefully, on the skin, making a mark, enjoying his moans.

His palms roughly grasping my shoulders, he led me toward the bed. I lost my balance against the edge of the mattress and had to seat myself quickly. He was already taller than me while standing, and now I felt even more childish, but if anything, I liked it that way. The professor teaching me what to do, how to do it. He leaned forward and captured my lips in his again, while pulling my turtleneck up. He broke the kiss to get it over my head. Then, he shoved me beneath him on the bed, hands caressing the skin he had healed just days ago. This time, it was me who groaned in exaltation. I could feel myself hardening as I ground my hips against his pelvis. Clothes were so bothersome—they were in the way.

As though reading my mind, Severus discarded his robe with a nimbleness that I had never possessed. Then, he unbuttoned my trousers, but before he could take them off completely, I couldn't stand the lack of contact between us and pulled him upon me again. The heat was unbearable but magnificent in the same moment. I could sense the firewhiskey still in my veins, and I'd never felt better in my life. Years of pent up desire for this man.

As he placed me further upon the bed, I realized the sheets were silk. The sudden coolness on my skin nearly drove me wild. My senses were so greatly heightened. Severus's legs were to my sides, and he had, somewhere along the line, taken off any undergarments, as well as my own. I could feel his erection throbbing against mine.

Then, he began to run his tongue along my chest. I dug my nails into his back as I cried out in pleasure. Slowly, he trailed wetness from my neck to my abdomen to my hip bones. I was rocking back and forth, pressing myself against him. A groan escaped his throat, and the noise vibrated against my skin.

Before I realized what he was doing, Severus placed three of his fingers in my mouth. Involuntarily, I began to suck on them, moaning as he ran his other hand along my length. "Draco," he teased, "did you come here for this?"

"Severus," I whimpered, while still managing to suck on his fingers. "Just shut up!" He laughed at this and took his hand away. I grabbed for them back, but he pushed me back down into the sheets. Once I felt one of his fingers in my entrance, I didn't resist anymore, only cried out in pure ecstasy. As he added the other fingers, I ground my pelvis into his even harder. I could feel his fingers moving inside of me and started to grow impatient.

If he had managed to use Legilimency on me, I wouldn't doubt it, because abruptly, he took his fingers away. The emptiness made me whimper again, but he simply replied with a lust-filled: "Let's try something else." I didn't care what he tried, so long as it felt amazing, so long as it kept the fire burning in me.

Severus positioned himself further down, and instinctively I straddled my legs around his waist. I felt his erection at my entrance, and a shiver ran down my spine in anticipation—a delicious juxtaposition when compared to the scorching of my skin. But when he pushed inside me, all of these sensations were overpowered by a searing pain. Severus could feel me tense and halted immediately.

"Relax," he coaxed, and even though his words were as languid and calming as always, they couldn't will the pain away. "We can stop," he added, but I shook my head briskly.

"No," I said through clenched teeth. "It's okay. Keep going."

At my approval, he began thrusting, but softly, carefully. Either way, it still hurt, and I wondered if my nails in his back would cut through the skin. He continued with his steady pace for a while, and the breath panting from him in my ear was enough to keep me hardened. Slowly, the pain ebbed away, or at least it wasn't as sharp anymore. Severus must have felt me lessen in tension, for his thrusts became a little rougher and another groan left his lips as he kissed my ear softly.

Then, he hit a spot in me that drove my senses back to fire. I cried out in pleasure, and he caught on immediately, thrusting against the spot again and again. I rocked my hips in time with his thrusts, so as to send him in deeper. I could feel the desire gathering in my exposed erection, but I refused to give in, wanting Severus to feel the same.

I wanted him to hurry; I thought I would explode if he kept up with his pace. He took my erection in one of his hands and began pumping it in rhythm. His moans in my ear were echoed by my own, until eventually I felt him give way, his hips bucking as he released. I followed soon after, covering his hand, and shuddering in pleasure.

Severus pulled away suddenly, and I nearly whimpered yet again at his absence before realizing he was cleaning his hands on his robe. A smirk touched my lips, knowing he wouldn't be wearing that tomorrow. When he returned, he pulled the sheets over us both and slipped his arms around my waist.

"Draco?" he mumbled.

I stumble over my words in my drowsiness: "Y-yes?"

"You'll have to leave early in the morning. We can't risk having anyone see you from Slytherin or any of the other professors making their way to their classes."

I clasped my hand against his. "Oh, be quiet, Severus. Do you always have to sound like my teacher?"

He laughed against my hair, then kissed my forehead. "Sleep well."

"Mmm."

And for the first time that year, I did. Without a dream, without a care, just knowing his arm was around my waist, as the fireplace crackled to silence in the room with us.

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It was fun writing a happier Draco.

**Review**, please. I'd _really _appreciate it on this chapter!


	7. Chapter Seven

A/N: And so you will be warned again: this fanfiction is rated M for male on male content.

* * *

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Seven

The cold, early morning sunlight spilling from the angled window outside Severus's office greeted me alongside the chilly air, but I was not partial to the weather. My eyes flicked to the door behind me, imagining the man two doors away.

He'd welcomed me just before dawn with a caress upon my bare arm, a kiss on my forehead. We hadn't exchanged words—I'd understood that I'd have to go. Dressing quickly, I had been reaching for the doorknob when his voice had pierced the murkiness of daybreak:

"Once the school day ends, come to my classroom."

The most glorious voice for me to hear first in the day. I smiled and murmured, "Till then," and left, my mind swimming with memories of the night before and with hopes for the "then" I'd spoken of.

-

Hot cereal for breakfast. The cinnamon porridge tasted of nothing more than gruel to my tongue when compared to the sweetness I'd devoured the night before. I didn't want to admit it, but my temples throbbed from the firewhiskey, as well as lack of sleep. There hadn't been much rest for me last night. A glance in Severus's direction found him with a harsher paleness than usual to his skin and slight bruises about his eyes—clear signs of his exhaustion.

I bit a grin away, so that my companions wouldn't see, wouldn't inquire. Feeling a stare upon me, I met Potter's eye for the first time since our encounter in the bathroom. He averted his gaze immediately. The coward.

Suddenly, Blaise Zabini took a seat in the empty chair beside me. "Hello there, Malfoy," he said, his eyes elsewhere in snobbish nonchalance. I nodded in reply.

"Year's almost over," he continued, a sneer on his lips now, daring. "Whatever happened to what you told me about on the train?" His fingers fluttered on my sleeve, above the Dark Mark. I sensed Pansy's attention upon us, felt a jealousy in her arise. I had to stifle a laugh—if a touch that meant nothing from Blaise was enough to stir up envious thoughts in her, I couldn't imagine what she would do if she learned of Severus and myself.

Blaise's words reminded me of the vanishing cabinet, of my little bird who'd lived. "I've nearly gotten it all worked out," I retorted, truthfully, pulling my arm away and coolly disguising the action as a mere reach for my glass of water.

"I'm _sure_." But his sarcasm did not affect me, for my words had not been false.

I turned my head from him, my eyes sliding away slowly. Be him pureblood—the Malfoy name was still stronger than that of his beautiful witch of a mother. "Pansy," I stated casually, "have you any idea what purpose there is to being amazing in classes and invited to exclusive clubs if there's no one there to congratulate you?" His beautiful, neglectful mother.

"I can't think of any." She clinked her goblet against mine, obviously happy to be included in my taunt, and even I was more than pleased with myself. It had been far too long since my last tease of anyone, and I had dealt Blaise a blow. Although his gaze revealed nothing more than his usual disregard, his mouth was held in a thin, uncomfortable line. I could see through his apathy.

"Neither can I." Pansy and I traded smirks as Blaise took his leave.

She laughed immediately after his departure. "Draco," she said, "it's nice to have you back."

-

If Severus chose to show no sign of our nightly embraces in class, then I had no reason to either. Of course, he wouldn't. What did I expect? A light brush of his fingers upon mine? An especially long glance in my direction?

Anything would have been accepted, but nothing was given, and I should not have grown to anticipate more than this of him.

But then, his hand graced my shoulder. I whisked my head about frantically when he did not take it away—no one had seen, not yet. "Severus," I whispered, my voice suddenly husky. "We can't, not here."

"You're body says otherwise, Mr. Malfoy." His hand traveled down my arm, across my stomach, to my lap. I gripped my quill tighter in an effort to suppress any possible moans of indulgence. How could he be so careless? Yet, I knew I adored it.

My face flushed; I was warm again, just as I had felt last night. "Calm down, Mr. Malfoy," he soothed, his hand massaging me.

"Class dismissed."

_What?_

The students stood as I was torn from my fantasy. I tried to will the blush from my cheeks, gathered my books, but before exiting, I caught his raven irises looking to my gray ones. _Later_, I thought. _I can wait._

-

Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, Arithmancy—by Merlin, boredom could only ensue. Classes had never taken so long, but they ended, and with anticipation I fled through the corridors, thinking of nothing but Severus.

My mind played through various possible interactions that could occur in Severus's classroom. There had already been so much before—not anything actual, nothing to provide evidence against a case of our affair. Simply my small, schoolboy attempts to receive his attentions. The innocent encounters had been on the edges of my mind since sixth year had begun, and now, all of those trials were bearing results. As I stood before the dungeon that was Snape's room, my fingertips gingerly met my lips. His hands had slipped around my waist, his kisses upon my skin. In all those years I had never been able to fully imagine the sensations of last night, and now that I had experienced them, I knew that Severus's ebon eyes would beckon me to taste more.

I didn't knock. Why should I? I was expected, after all.

As usual, he was bent over a cauldron, even though potions were no longer his teachings. _Old habits die hard_, I supposed. I looked at my hands, reliving my tentative touches upon my teacher throughout my life at Hogwarts. _Yes, they do._

"Mr. Malfoy," he muttered, "I've been waiting."

I placed my bookbag on the floor beside his desk and made my way to him, like a moth drawn to flame. I rested my hand on his arm "Did it take me long?"

"Longer than I expected from you."

I chuckled softly, knowing how I'd raced to be here. I had never thought of Severus as impatient—his slow movements, languid manners—but I was pleased by it nonetheless. His eagerness helped ease a few tension in the muscles of my back. At least I was not the only one who wanted the other so greatly.

Catching his hand that deftly stirred the ladle in his brew in my own, I brought my lips to his ear and murmured: "Unless you plan on liquoring me up like last night again, I hope this is a potion for splitting headaches."

"You were a virgin to alcohol?" he asked, amused, and I could feel a blush creep into my cheeks. No longer a virgin to alcohol—or chaste by any other means at all. He glimpsed my flush, and his eyes seemed to gleam in enjoyment. He set aside the ladle and turned his attentions to me, but his choice of conversation was less than satisfactory:

"You know this cannot be done, for more than one reason."

There was no need for him to clarify what 'this' referred to, for he stepped a few paces from me, as though affirming his resolve to not touch me. Confusions shivered in my stomach. He had called me here to tell me this? "And why not?" is all I managed to voice.

"Our relationship is to be business only—be that in school or loyalty to the Dark Lord. You know this. What would Lucius say?"

At the mention of my father, I now found myself withdrawing a bit from Severus. My father was the last topic I wished to discuss with him. He was locked away in Azkaban. He was nowhere to be seen but in the refuge of my labyrinth mind, hidden away as bitter shame—a constant reminder of my family's bruised honor and the necessity of my task.

"We spoke of this briefly last night," he continued, "but you managed to change the subject. I was... out of sorts as well."

I scoffed, feeling the anger begin to boil. "Yes, you seemed rather eager to oblige to anything last night."

Severus regarded me with empty eyes, not tempting me—no, only succeeding in bring about the fury in me that he was so skilled at rousing. "I will not lie to you, Draco. Last night was enjoyable. I wish I could say I regretted it..." He allowed for a moment a silence, a moment for hope to try and saturate the growing dread inside me, but then, his words trailed on: "However, you seem to be in the worst situation for distractions."

"And what do you mean by that?"

He cleared his throat, drummed his fingers upon the hardwood table as he had that time in the past. Only now, I refrained from grasping his hand in mine. In truth, my hands were trembling; I had to hide them behind my back, clasped together as though in annoyance, not fearful melancholy. "I mean to say, Draco, as it is clearly obvious, that you have not been successful in your mission. Need I remind you that I made the Unbreakable Vow with your mother. It is my duty to see this task to completion. And things do not seem to be going according to—"

"You know nothing!" I interrupted, shocked at how shrill my tone had become. "You choose to say this to me now? You invited me here, this morning, after last night, to tell me that you want nothing of me? So, then, what do you suppose I meant by coming by at all yesterday? Just to be around you for a cheap screw?"

Severus's features twisted into something that resembled sorrow, although it was barely recognizable through the red that I was seeing. He stepped backward so quickly, as though my words had truly affected him, before coming to my side. "Draco..." he murmured softly, as though to comfort, but my name alone was not means to pacify me.

"Don't call me that," I accused. "If you insist on a platonic, 'business' relationship between us, then address me by my surname."

He shook his head. "I don't wish to do so."

"And why is that?" I could _not _be near tears. I turned my face away, tried to gather my thoughts, perhaps distract myself. Why was it Severus who always seemed to have the power to drive me to pathetic tears? For this reason—was this why I fought to be with him so much? Because he aroused sadness within me? Or, was it simply that from him I felt a different emotion besides indifference and hatred.

But in this moment, how I despised him. _Hated_ him, and the pain of this stabbed at me, at my chest, as I rested my shaking hands on the table, my head down in frustration.

"Draco." He paused, waiting for me to spew contempt at his informality, but how could I? My thoughts tossed back and forth, for that name struck a chord of affection in me, for him. "I don't see you in that way," he said.

"Then, explain yourself."

He sighed. "You need motivation. I cannot be with you if you cannot complete your task."

"Oh, so then, you think you can dangle yourself as the prize?" _Him—_a worm on the hook? Was I a fish to be baited, tempted by the possibility of a life with him? He thought me so easily influenced. I snorted in disgust. Quite the opposite, actually. I would be the sharpened dagger on which the worm is stabbed through, writhing in agony. I smirked at the image, before realizing worms did not feel the pain—they were heartless, emotionless. The perfect metaphor.

From behind me, Severus brushed his hands against my shoulders. I didn't pull away; although my mind screamed for me to do so, my body refused. Some part of me wanted this so much. To be used?

"If only it was that simple of a concept, Draco," he told me, voice still ever so even and monotonous, and for the first time in my life I abhorred it. "However, it is not. Were the Dark Lord not an ever-present factor in our lives, then I would not hesitate, be me your teacher or not. This is not the case, though."

"I don't understand how Voldemort has anything to do with this!" Snape's eyebrows shot up in surprise at my mention of our Lord's name, but he chose his battles wisely and did not address the matter.

Instead, he answered my question with what seemed to me as nothing more than mere riddles. "There are other issues, as well—things of which you are not even the slightest bit aware of. Draco, you are so very young. There is so much you do not know. So much that many do not know. I would not want to put you in danger."

"Danger?" I laughed. "You can't be serious. Now, you've come from insisting that I serve the Dark Lord with utmost haste to declaring that you only wish to protect me! You know what I think is best, Severus?"

He inhaled slowly, let out a breath of morose coldness. After shutting his eyes briefly, he cut through my anger with his solemn tone: "Tell me."

I turned my face to see him fully. "I think you had better give up this game, and I think I had better, as well. For years we've been playing it." He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut his words away with my own: "Don't try to deny it. You can be infuriatingly callous, aloof—I can think of a thousand words to describe you—but I know that you are not _blind_. Since first year, I've been with you, if not physically... but surely, you've seen the signs. Hints here and there. And then, last night, even before when you saved my life, you showed me affection. What for? To be cruel? To set up the stage in which you could force me to do the Dark Lord's task more quickly? What do you plan to do with me after? What do you want from me, other than what your Lord desires?"

A hand upon his knee. A kiss upon his cheek while he slept. _Severus, why torture me, now? _

He stepped closer to me, increasing our proximity. His mouth opened, as though to answer, but then he shut it, his lips set emotionless. We stared at each other for so long, it seemed, me trying to read him, and who knew what he was thinking? I thought with certainty that he would tell me it had all been for the Vow, for Voldemort, and I didn't _understand_.

But then, he captured my lips in his, so suddenly that I let out a cry of surprise, before it faded to a husky groan in the back of my throat. My eyes blinked several times, before coming to a close—Severus's hands upon me, traveling to the small of my back. I was so fed up with games, but I couldn't say no. My lips responded, my tongue pushing past his as we deepened the kiss. My fingers caressed his neck, where I had left marks to be covered by his collar from the night before.

Marked—the Dark Lord had burned himself into my arm, but Severus was burned elsewhere. I felt ashamed to think of him in my heart. Such sentiments were looked down on in my family, or so I believed. No one had ever outright said this, but "I love you" was never spoken to me by my mother, and most certainly never by Father.

Severus pulled away, leaving me restless. His fingers trailed the curve of my neck, to my lips, then brushed against my cheek as he cupped my face in his hand. I closed my eyes again and kissed his palm. "If only I could tell you," he whispered, sounding as though whatever he was keeping from me was impaling his chest as a razor-silver knife would. "Draco, you deserve much more."

"I don't care what you think I deserve. You really think I care about anything besides what I want?" His eyes widened at my words, but not in shock at my selfishness. No, he had to have known I was selfish by now. We both were._ We all are—the Death Eaters. _

"It wouldn't really matter," he told me, "especially if what you want is what I do, as well."

"Then, why spout nonsense about us not being together?"

He smiled, and, just like that, I could feel the anger dissipating; I knew that whatever he said next would relieve me completely. I gripped his hand on my cheek with my own. "Draco, I don't expect you to understand my motives, as I cannot express them fully. Just know that I was wrong. I resign myself."

"'Resign'?" I questioned, disliking the word—like I was forcing him.

"I choose this, instead." And he kissed me again. He lifted me like I was nothing and placed me on top of the table. Immediately, I locked my legs around his waist, pressing my hardening self against him. Our tongues ran heatedly against each other, and I wanted more from him than this kiss. I had grown spoiled from the night before. I didn't care whether or not I damaged his clothes; I ripped at the buttons, needing him upon me, revealing the marks I'd created. He broke our kiss, and I moved to repeat last night's venture, leaving bites along his neck to his chest. He was so soft, so easily bruised.

Severus had other reasons for ending our embrace. The various vials, bottles, and pots upon the table had to be dealt with. I thought to myself, _How cliché_, as he swept them to the floor with his forearm, but my thoughts all fluttered away as I was pushed fully on the table and Severus descended upon me, his raven eyes gazing with darkened desire.

This time, I disposed of my own shirt, and he teased me with his lips, holding them just above my own, before he murmured a quick: "_Colloportus_." I heard the door click, announcing itself to be locked. No need for any unwanted intruders.

As we were caught up in yet another kiss, our tongues dancing seductively, I felt Severus fumble with my trousers. My hands met his as I quickly unbuttoned and kicked them off. I expected him to undress as well but was surprised as his brought his knee to my arousal. I groaned in torturous pleasure as he dug in further. My blood was pounding, and I found myself rocking against his knee, wanting more, but really just wanting him inside of me again. I pulled at the clothing still covering his back, and he understood, pulling back, while putting more pressure into his knee, grinding into me further, but relieving himself of his robes.

By the time he finally entered me, I was so far gone that I feared I would come in mere moments, but Severus thought otherwise. He pounded into me with such vigor that I wondered if he had forgotten that I had been broken into just the night before. Be that as it may, the pain did knock away my pleasure; that was until his pace seemed to pick up an even greater speed as he lunged into my sweet spot again. As I cried out, clutching at my own erection, I timed my rocking with his thrusts once more.

"Draco," Severus moaned, panting in-between each gasp of my name. My legs grasped his waist tighter as I felt myself nearing climax. "Draco..." In my arms, I felt him trembling, as I was, until we both found our release simultaneously.

I whimpered beside myself as he pulled out, disliking the emptiness of it, but he draped his arms about me, filling the void. For minutes, we rested like this, coming off the high of our climaxes. Slowly, my erratic heartbeat returned to normal.

"It's still only early evening," Severus bemoaned. "We can't sleep here."

The hardness of the desk beneath my back told me the same thing. "What should we do?" Always, I looked to him for guidance.

"You're no stranger to sneaking into my room after nightfall, now."

I smiled lazily. "I suppose not."

"Then, come again tonight."

We stood and began to dress ourselves. I glimpsed Severus's naked skin and shuddered with delight at his form. Perhaps he was a little lean, but so was I, and that was how I liked him, anyway. "And what about me finishing my task on time?" I taunted.

He glanced at me, both of us now fully clothed. "Well, there's still a few hours before curfew. I believe we can compromise."

I replied with a quick kiss upon his lips. He rested his forehead against mine but, too soon, moved away. "Now, go," he said, and I didn't hesitate. I would see him that night, anyway.

-

Silence in the Room of Requirement, but Severus moaning my name echoed in my ears. I came upon the bird cage and released the canary from his prison.

"_Episkey_," I chanted, and his broken wing was fixed. A flash of guilt assaulted me, but only for an instant—I should have performed the spell the night my good luck charm had broken his bones, but I'd been so ecstatic, I'd forgotten.

With a gentleness I never knew I possessed, I placed the bird in the pitch-black shadows of the vanishing cabinet and shut it away. I was not surprised when I opened the door and found it gone. That had always been the easy part. _Let it work, with no mistakes,_ I pleaded, for more reasons this time than to mend my family honor. I had Severus to aspire for now.

But then, if it worked, I knew that I would have to lead the Death Eaters into the castle. My mind suddenly wandered to the worries I had buried beneath my frustration with Severus. My task, my mission for the Dark Lord, in order for it to succeed, these brief happy days I'd experienced in Hogwarts would come to an abrupt end.

But if I did not complete the task, then nothing would be solved. Nothing.

There was no choice I could make that would not result in some negative setback. It had all been so simple before, when I had been proud of the Dark Mark burned into my flesh. My allegiances were with the Dark Lord. I had no other alternative.

I closed the door and prayed silently that something would be solved today. I knew that if I opened the cabinet and my canary flew from it, wings spread in its powder blue shadow feathers and song calling to the wind locked away by castle walls, all that could be well would be well; and yet, I feared all would be wrong.

I braced my fingers to reveal whatever awaited me inside.

* * *

A/N: I've made Draco rather bi-polar, but that was how I always felt him to be during _Half-Blood Prince_, anyway. I hope everyone is enjoying themselves, and I'm very glad to have crossed the thirty review threshold! Please, let's keep that review count rising? :)

Please, **review**. Tell me how you feel the story is going or if you see any grammatical errors.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Beta: Jazz E. Roisin

* * *

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Eight

As I cupped my canary in my hands, I could feel his heart racing, whereas mine seemed to have stopped. He was singing to me, but I couldn't hear him—songs of celebration no doubt: the vanishing cabinet was perfected. Time slowed in the air surrounding me, sounds but waves of pressure in my ears, sights closing in on me in their darkness, enclosing shadows, midnight blue dusting the cabinet, the birdcage, the desks, and piles of standing armor.

I was losing vision. I was losing it all.

The vanishing cabinet had been mended. I was successful. The task could be completed; the plans I had formulated could be initiated: Bring the Death Eaters into the castle, do away with Dumbledore. Under the protection of the Dark Lord's followers, I could make an easy escape. By my side would be my comrades; perhaps even Severus would end his charade as an Order member and join us, onward to victory.

Or perhaps he would stay. This could end the moments we had shared. The brevity of our time together struck me, until I recalled the attempts I'd made since first year. No, not brief. I had been pining for too long, and now it would all be over._ 'Were the Dark Lord not an ever-present factor in our lives, then I would not hesitate.' _He'd said so himself; yet, we'd tossed aside this obvious issue. Sure, he had chosen me then, but it seemed so clear to me now. Could I choose him, too?

Father, Mother, the Dark Lord, even the Death Eaters—any affection between Severus and I would be shunned. There could be no future.

However, I could not give in so easily. I had been raised by Death Eaters but had become one only recently, only since last summer. My affections for Severus had been born nearly a full six years ago. Him over the Dark Lord? How would our Lord react to such a declaration? He expected undying loyalty to him, before friends, before family.

My bird's song finally reached me, sonorous and bittersweet. I sighed and placed him in the birdcage and closed it definitively. Immediately, his chirping ceased as he flew against the iron bars, trapped. _Maybe I should let him go_, I wondered but could not bring myself to do so.

We all lived in cages, big or small. Freedom was but a state of mind.

-

Severus had not locked either of his doors. His private quarters greeted me with the same blackwood furniture and silver and green decorations—it all seemed like home to me after wandering in a place of strangers and strange thoughts. Severus himself was sitting upon a chair, a book in his lap. His face wore a mask of concentration as he ran a finger along the pages. I wondered if he was reading articles on potions, or fiction—literature full of alternate worlds where people come to life only on paper.

Finally, he noticed me and closed his book with one hand, revealing the title: _Ancient Brews & Ingredients_. Of course, why would Severus find solace in anything other than reality?

"Didn't knock?" he asked, without mocking. I knew he wouldn't have left the door open if he hadn't wanted me to walk in. I was sure he was merely amused that I was comfortable enough not to knock, and why should I not be? I had shared his bed, in this very room. I would find it much more absurd to fear venturing in than to knock.

In four strides I crossed the room to his armchair. There was space enough for me to sit beside him; yet awkwardness settled in the set of my shoulders. I could open his door and step inside, but to cozy up beside him filled me with neurosis.

"You seem bothered," he added, placing his book on the small table to his left, leaning far into that side of his chair. He indicated for me to sit next to him, and I figured that if I was invited, then 'cozying up' couldn't be too bad of an idea.

I seated myself, uncomfortably stiff and straight-backed, and Severus glanced at me with hilarity in his raven eyes before stroking my thigh with his hand and lightly nudging my legs toward him. I bent my knees, bridging my legs over his lap, my feet dangling off the side of the chair. As Severus continued running his hand along my leg in circular motions, my breath hitched slightly. I was not accustomed to this nurturing side of him; although, as my nerves began to die down, I found myself thinking that I could get used to this newness.

"Going to offer me a drink?" I asked him, half-jokingly, ignoring his previous attempt to discover the source of my anxiety.

He grazed my legs with his fingertips, almost as though playing piano, pressing imaginary keys. "I think it's best not to," he replied, staring into the fireplace.

"Me, too."

Turning to me, he nodded, but distractedly. "Were you able to make any headway with your task?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

Suddenly alert, he pierced me with his gaze, pinning me in place, frozen. "And why is that?" he inquired.

Truly, I realized I didn't want to tell Severus of my success with the vanishing cabinet. Would he distance himself from me further if we dwelled in the subject? Surely he would come to all the same conclusions that I had in the Room of Requirement, except much sooner. Severus was keen on these things. He'd probably already considered every last one of the many setbacks to us even speaking on such friendly terms; nevertheless, he was still here, with me.

But I would not take my chances. I had too much at stake for a gamble—in this moment, Severus was too precious to bet, even if the odds might be in my favor. No, he would learn soon enough of the Death Eaters' arrival at Hogwarts. Once they stepped within the castle walls, all would know—teachers, students, house elves, and cold stone walls alike. What one did not know could never get to him. I decided to feign ignorance. Let there be bliss for a small while.

"I spend too much time a day thinking about my mission for the Dark Lord," I answered truthfully. "While I'm with you, I'd like to pretend."

"Pretend?"

"That it's all not so important."

Severus sighed, apparently wanting to say more, but he chose to obey my wishes instead. I rested my head upon his shoulder, shutting my eyes, listening to the fire and Severus's steady breathing. He twined his fingers in my hair before lifting my chin and kissing me, softly. Compared to our impassioned, ravenous kisses of this afternoon, our embrace was rather chaste, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, taking the time to explore Severus's lips with my own or pull away slightly, feeling his warm breath as he nuzzled the tip of his nose against mine. I found that light touches could set my stomach aflutter just as our heated encounters had.

As I feathered my fingertips along his sleeve, he tucked my head into the crook of his neck. Massaging my shoulder, he mumbled: "Draco? Are you tired?" I nodded. "Then, off to bed, yes?"

Rising from the comfort of our closeness, I smirked. "Sounds nice, but I'm not _that _tired."

"Well, we really should be off to bed then."

I bit my lip, trying not to break out in a silly grin, wanting to play coy. "I suppose... if you'd like?" I grasped his hand as he stood from the chair, taking me with him.

"Yes," he said, loosening my tie, "I would."

-

_I could not believe I had fallen asleep. Five point strike to Slytherin—from Snape that was little to nothing for sleeping in his class, especially as a first year. I had Slytherin House to thank for that._

"_I'd like to speak with you after class, Mr. Malfoy," he demanded, tone guarded, but his words caused gossipy titters throughout the classroom, for it was not often that Snape took punishment that far, even if the crime was as disruptive as an exploding potion._

_So, I waited beside his desk as my classmates rushed from the room, ignoring Crabbe and Goyle's sympathetic glances. Eventually, Snape looked away from his papers, to me._

"_Are you not getting enough sleep?" he asked, crossing his arms. My eyebrows shot up in surprise at his concern, and I bit my tongue to stop a smile from tugging at my lips. _

_Shaking my head, I responded with a simple, "I'm fine."_

"_I see..." He uncrossed his arms and added: "But you look a mess." With that, he proceeded to fix my tie, which I had, unknowingly, allowed to become loose. Working with quick, deft hands, he finished and returned to his ungraded papers._

"_You can leave, now." _

_I hesitated a moment, then made my exit, my fingers wandering to the tightened knot in my tie, as I felt my throat tighten—happy to have received his attentions. _

_-_

With no windows in his room, I had no way to tell if it was morning or if time had stopped somewhere in the middle of the night. The fire had long since collapsed in on itself, but, nestled within the blankets and Severus's arms, I was safe from the cold.

Suddenly, Severus stirred and he gripped my side tighter. For a moment, I wondered if he was having a nightmare, but when I turned to him, I found his eyes open. He had simply awoken.

"If you're awake," I said, my voice slightly hoarse from sleep, "then it must be morning."

"You sound disappointed."

I sighed and shifted my body to face his. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't."

As he lifted his arms from me, a chill tingled through my body. I watched him stretch, my eyes wandering along the lean muscle in his arms and upper chest—the rest was covered by the blanket. "It's just a day, like any other."

Images of a cursed necklace, poisoned mead, and, finally, a canary spreading its wings as it took flight from the vanishing cabinet played in my memories. I couldn't bring myself to utter a reply, for fear of saying the wrong thing, implying the coming events of this day.

Eventually, I said: "And what would I be doing on any other day? Getting up, getting ready—for classes."

A noncommittal sound escaped Severus's lips as he trailed his fingers down my bare back. "Not just yet." I recalled him shooing me away the first morning I'd spent in this room and smiled. It appeared as though someone wasn't as willing to see me go now.

But, if I went through with my plan, and it succeeded, then I would have to go, wouldn't I?

After a moment of comfortable silence, I summoned the courage to ask Severus the question that had been dancing in my mind: "Which do you think is more important, happiness or loyalty?"

Severus's eyes took in my features. As he opened his mouth to voice the response I expected of him, I could see the betraying emotions in his eyes. "Loyalty," he replied, but the opposite was so vivid in the onyx sea of his irises that I could practically feel it breathing; yet he knew. Happiness, although so important, could never win. That was why he chose the latter. That was why he lied.

"I should leave," I told him as I began to rise from the bed, but he grabbed my arm, pulled me close for a second with a small kiss.

And, as always, I swore he could push past my Occlumency into my thoughts, even though I knew it was impossible. "Whatever is done today," he said, solemnly, "I'll keep you safe."

"Because of the Vow?"

He released my arm, sitting up himself as I started to dress. "Let that be an excuse." Immediately, I thought of Amortentia. I understood excuses, how necessary they could be, and how much could lie hidden beneath them.

Finally, after I finished with my tie, I made my way to the door.

"See you tonight?" Severus asked.

I nodded, finding it difficult to swallow. "Yeah." The door clicked shut behind me.

-

Classes went by in the same manner as yesterday: my limbs full of anticipation during D.A.D.A and boredom in anything else. Except, now, my mind was abuzz with what I was planning in addition to Severus's voice, face, mannerisms, touches.

_Two more classes to go_. I sighed, glancing around the hallway as compliant Hogwarts students walked through the doors to their designated classrooms. Sitting in a chair, learning spells that held less power than the three Unforgivables—the three that meant the most to a Death Eater—seemed so needless. I turned heel and, without a backward glance, continued down the hallway, up flights of winding stairs, through doorways and secret passages, into shadowed darkness, past bright windows, until finally I met my destination: the Room of Requirement.

So I had skipped classes without an excuse. How many points were to be deducted from Slytherin? Like it mattered. After today, no one would care for such a silly, trivial loss to their House. Hogwarts would change. The Wizarding World, as a whole, would be altered.

Because of me. And the honor it would restore to my family.

My canary greeted me with a sharp chirp, impatient to be relieved of its cage, if only for a moment. I complied, opening the small iron door, and found it rather amusing when he didn't fly right out. No, instead, he waited, tentatively taking one small step after another toward his liberation. I left him there. Let him be foolish.

In a desk drawer I found some parchment, and it reminded me to write to my aunt, Bellatrix, of the repaired vanishing cabinet. From my school bag I drew my quill and some ink. As I leaned against the desk, writing, the sound of the quill scratching against this long forgotten parchment filled the room. No endearments were mentioned; no _Dearest Aunt _in the salutation or _Love your nephew _in conclusion. Just a simple, quick message:

_Aunt Bellatrix,_

_Tonight, just after lights out at Hogwarts, I would like you to transport here through the vanishing cabinet in Borgin & Burkes. This is urgent. Bring the others. Today, the Dark Lord shall rule over Hogwarts._

_-Draco_

The last line of the note came hesitantly. 'The Dark Lord shall rule'—I was sure such words would bring about much happiness to my aunt. Once again, I found myself thinking of how lucky, and pitiful, she was, being able to align happiness and loyalty. There was to be no dilemma for her, no conflicting forces partaking in a civil war within the depths of her mind.

I rolled the parchment up and placed it in my school uniform jacket. Glancing at my clothes, I decided I should change for the night's activities. Somehow, I didn't feel comfortable destroying everything Hogwarts stood for in its uniform. Also, a quick clothes change gave me something to do. I felt restless—needed distractions; anything to keep me going through the motions of the day. I hadn't been having much luck, since I'd already skipped classes, but if not in class, then being here was better than sitting, alone, in the Common Room, with a stabbing migraine from too much thought.

Gathering my quill and inkwell, I readied myself to leave. My attention shifted to my canary, who sang in protest, realizing that I would shut him away again. At the last second, I took pity on him. _No, stay free in this little room. I'll widen your prison._

My next stop would be the Owlery—to send the letter to my aunt. Classes would be out by the time I reached the tower, so there would be no need to worry over being caught out of school. The walk was rather slow compared to the one aimed at the Room of Requirement. Even distractions were beginning to weigh heavily on my shoulders.

My owl perched upon my arm, and I tried not to jerk away from the shooting pains of its talons. Unfurling my parchment, I attached it to him—his yellow eyes gazing into mine as only a Eurasian Eagle Owl could. _Send you away. Fly away. _He took my note with him, sealing my responsibility; I would have to finish this, tonight.

So simple. By sending my owl, I had set my fate into stone.

-

My meal before me, I found I wasn't very hungry. Of course, I needed to eat, to be strong and prepared for the battle that would ensue tonight, but I couldn't will myself to lift my silverware into my mouth. My goblet stood, unwanted, full.

I could do nothing but stare at my plate. Even looking to Severus was impossible for me, as I feared he would see it all in my eyes, see my plans, see the difference in me that was gradually growing. I was yet to be completely sure of what this difference entailed, but whatever it was, I did not like it. No, more than ever, I longed to be returned to my days as a headstrong, arrogant first to fifth year.

But, then, I took that back. Without sixth year, there would have been no time spent with Severus. I sighed. I would not give that away, for all the honor in the world.

Yet, I knew, I was about to give it all up.

The Dining Hall began to empty, and I was among the first to leave. Pansy gave me a strange look as I departed, but I paid neither her nor her worries any mind. She would understand soon enough, after all.

The sun had already set, and the hallways were merely lit by hanging torches, casting their shadows against the castle. I seated myself in the window I had found earlier this year—the window from which I had observed those first years giggling, arm-in-arm, with each other. Absentmindedly, I fiddled with my wand, feeling the smoothness of the Hawthorn wood, recalling the unicorn hair as—what had Ollivander said?—oh, yes, 'reasonably springy'.

What a description.

"There you are," a feminine voice spoke, breaking my well-constructed web of distractive recollections. A glance to my left found Pansy beside me, the same strange look upon her features. I should have known she'd come looking.

Inwardly, I groaned as she began her spiel: "Draco, you've been looking a little gray today. It seems like every time I see you, you're looking worse. I mean, you're still your Malfoy-blonde and gray-eyed self, but... I don't know. Listen, I just want to know if you're all right. I don't want a typical 'Yes, Pansy, I'm fine'. Tell me the truth. I'm worried."

When she finally stopped, I wondered if she was out of breath but immediately felt guilty over taunting her, even if only in my thoughts. No, Pansy was genuinely worried for me; she deserved a genuine response.

"There's nothing to worry for anymore," I told her—vague but true— and reached a hand into my blazer, stroking my wand. The Unforgivable Curses ran through my head like chants. "For once, I'm doing exactly as I am supposed to."

Pansy sucked in a breath, shocked that I had offered any form of information, displeased with how little I had revealed, but she knew she must have been fortunate to obtain any response other than the 'typical' one she had listed.

Finally, she nodded. "All right," she replied. "I hope things work out." Then, catching me by surprise, she leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead. My first response was to be repulsed, but then, in this fleeting instant of her lips gracing me so quickly, I found myself unable to shudder. I thought of my mother kissing me in this way when I was still just a child, before Severus Snape came into my life, before Hogwarts at all. I was only a little boy, with a slight injury—just a bump, not even enough to bruise. Of course, Father had been nowhere near us at the time; such a Muggle ideal, yet it was such a strong memory. The kiss did more than magic could ever comfort.

Sometimes touch could be more important than magic.

-

Nighttime—the students of Hogwarts were supposed to be inside, but I knew there were more than a handful of stragglers, being it just after curfew. Most of us past fourth year were still wide awake, sprawled about our Common Rooms, a few in the hallways, and, today, I played a role as one of those last few.

In all actuality, Albus Dumbledore was not as well protected as one would think. Obviously, his best guard was his own magic. Many students knew where he would be at this time of night, with clear skies—this infinite black speckled with bright stars. The Astronomy Tower. Would he suspect that I had come to murder him? I wondered if he would anticipate me. No matter. He would not foresee the Death Eaters. He did not have clairvoyance.

I was dressed in all black. I had changed before dinner. Black blazer, black turtleneck, black pants and shoes. Adorned for a funeral: rest in peace, Headmaster.

As I climbed the winding stairs to the Astronomy Tower, I missed my footing on one step, quickly catching myself on the banister. I let out a shallow breath, silently wishing that I could ask for help. If only Severus could be with me, but I understood that this could not be done.

I had to do this alone—it was my task. If completed, I, singlehandedly, would reclaim the Malfoy family honor. Usually, such a solid statement in my thoughts would strengthen my resolve, make my stride longer, my muscles tighter, my senses clearer, but, for the first time, I wondered to myself: was my family's honor truly such a worthy cause?

Before I could explore that topic, I found myself at the door—the one that would lead me to the man I was about to kill. I grasped the doorknob, realizing that by this time, the Death Eaters had probably entered the school. _No turning back_. Into the tower I went.

And there he was, standing, as though waiting for me, as though a savior before an open space of night sky and endless horizon. His white robes made him glow, like the ghost of a man he would become. In the midst of all the clutter of star charts, globes, and telescopes, he stood out in majesty. This man of over a hundred—and I was supposed to cut the thread of his life.

"Draco?" Dumbdledore mumbled, and his eyes held a tiredness to them, and exhaustion pressed into him from all sides. As I stared into his pale face, I found that I could relate; and yet, my hands were shaking.

I saw him reach for his wand. "_Expelimarius_!" I cried, on instinct, and the wand fell away. He was defenseless. I was in control.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see the sky darkening, and it was strange to see midnight grow darker. Ebony upon a nearly-black blue. Clouds began to cover the stars. So, the Death Eaters had most certainly arrived.

My wand in my hand, my trembling hand. I cursed myself—I could not even feign bravery in a moment like this: my supposed crowning glory. It could all be done, now. The Unforgivable Curse on the tip of my tongue, but it had never seemed so far away from my voice. _Say it! _I screamed at myself.

"Draco," I heard him say above the roar in my mind. "I know you. You are not capable of an act such as this."

"You don't know what I'm capable of. You don't know what I've done!" I had hurt people, even before the Dark Mark burned in my flesh. Small games, some more vicious than others, but now, in this year, I had stepped across the line. Redemption was impossible—yes, I had learned this when I casted _Imperio_. Then, I had cursed Katie Bell in an attempt to murder the man before me now. I had poisoned Ron Weasley with the same intent. I had repaired the vanishing cabinet, set free the Death Eaters into this supposed safe realm.

And, somehow, regret bloomed in the scarlet of my pure blood, just as tears threatened my eyes. So, if I would not be brave at all, then I would cry? So pathetic. Tortured to tears—a sniveling boy would murder the great Albus Dumbdledore? My self-deprecating thoughts did nothing to ease my burning eyes.

"I know, Draco," he told me, and I realized that maybe he did know; perhaps I should have found comfort in this, but there was none, not for me. "Years ago, I met a boy who made all the wrong choices. He seemed a student like any other, except for the strong bonds that tied him to his family, and the bonds that tied this family to another, sinister man, but Draco, you are not like this man and his followers. Please, Draco, let me help you!"

The tears spilled, even as my wand still pointed to this man. "I don't need your help! I have to do this! I have to kill you..." And, finally, I came to terms with why. It wasn't for my family's honor; it wasn't for the glory. Perhaps, in the beginning, that was what had guided me, but, now, no. No. "Or he's going to kill me!"

My shaking hand, no, I could feel it wanting to lower. But _how_? I had come so far!

Then, suddenly, like flashes of shadows moving as writhing snakes to bite at my heels and poison me again with my fear for the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters appeared beside me. Four of them: Fenrir Greyback, Alecto Carrow, Amycus Carrow, and my aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Their voices flooded the room, as well as the tension they added, like ribbons of lightening to strike the tower.

"Dumbledore cornered!" Amycus sang, but not like my canary—no a different kind of song entirely. "Dumbledore wandless! Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!"

My aunt glared at the singer, but a rabid leer cracked her face. "Shut up," she hissed. "We're on a bit of a tight schedule. Draco, do it!"

I turned back to the Headmaster, my hand no more stayed by Bellatrix's presence than before. I tried to swallow my tears and found that I had ceased crying, but my eyes still burned—the water had dried, but the frustrated sorrow still lingered.

Fenrir Greyback's gruff voice abruptly sounded: "He doesn't have the stomach, like his father." I winced at his words, at my family's ruined name. "Let me finish him."

"No! The Dark Lord was clear. The boy's to do it."

I was to do it. It was my mission. I was to...

And then, _he _appeared, as though manifested to my side. I felt his hand on the small of my back, and I exchanged glances with Severus. Of course he would come, but there—in my face—was the one main reason why all of this had seemed so futile. A life without Severus, the one who had opened my mind to alternatives: a life without the Dark Lord's rule.

_But I must do this_. Yet, I wondered if I could. The Death Eaters watched me closely. I feared that I could not. Severus's hand still upon my back. I knew that I could not.

And my wand began to lower.

"Please," Dumbledore all but whimpered. "Severus."

I swear I saw that horrid green before I heard his words:

"_Avada Kedavra_."

It was finished. Severus had ended it all. Albus Dumbledore plummeted toward the tainted sky. The fall would do him no damage; he was already dead.

The Death Eaters howled their victory, gazing over the balcony. Severus did not move. I did not move. I was frozen, in shock. I had failed, yet the end had met the means. My hard work for Severus's success. Was I angry? No. I was drained.

The celebratory cries began to leave the Astronomy Tower, but I was fixed in place. "We must leave, Draco," Severus spoke calmly, as only he could in a time like this. "Wake up from this daze you've slipped into. This is not the time for fear or guilt."

My fingers made their way to his arm, for balance, for support. "Or sentiments," he added, somewhat sadly, while caressing my hand softly.

Like a raven, his robes fluttered in the air as he swiftly turned, his hand pulling mine lightly, urging me onward. And for a brief moment, I was engulfed by these robes, by the feathers of the raven, as we began our escape, as we took flight.

* * *

A/N: So, I have several things to say: One, I have no idea if that is how the Owlery really is; I improvised. Two, I had quite a bit of fun writing Dumbledore's death. Mixing the movie with the book, as well as my own ideas and twists, was rather challenging. Oh, and three, getting into Draco's mind for this chapter was very different! Really, what must he have been thinking on this day? Also, I've reached over one thousand hits on this story. Thanks, everyone.

Sorry that it took so long to update this time. I moved states, and I've also been working on a rather lengthy outline for a Harry Potter oneshot I'm about to start writing.

**Review**, please. I want to hear everyone's opinions.


	9. Chapter Nine

And He Shows Me No Smile

by je suis l.m.

Chapter Nine

"Draco," he urged, his hand upon my back as though to push me down the winding steps. "We must hurry."

I counted each step, desperately trying to keep my attention upon my feet so as not to stumble, so as not to allow my thoughts to wander—Albus Dumbledore was gone and the Death Eaters had arrived and there was nothing left for me now. What else was there? I had not completed my task; Severus had finished it for me, with power as lightening to strike the air between the enemy and us. As we turned the corner and the steps beneath my feet disappeared into the straight, murky hallway, I felt the unnatural coldness finally come, seeping through my clothes, washing upon my skin, and I all but laughed at my despicable inability to avoid my mind's rampant call for attention. No footfalls, no support from the raven haired man beside me could halt the truth.

The Malfoys would still be nothing. Perhaps, the Dark Lord would be lenient in the wake of his victory, but still, we would be nothing in his eyes, and, once he claimed the world, I realized that he would never gift us with a decent title. We would be but worms in the soil of his old grave: living relics of what we had sacrificed for him and indoctrinated lessons to the Wizarding World on how easily one could fall from the high grace the Lord offered.

I heard shrieking and breaking glass. Before me stood the dining hall; yet I could not recall how I had been brought here. Severus was still by my side, pressing me onward as I watched the Death Eaters lay claim to the broken Hogwarts castle. The chandeliers shattered into a thousand pieces like falling stars, foretelling omens of the bleak future that awaited. The white table clothes were sullied beneath my aunt's prancing feet, as she danced about the tables, her wand held high, screaming curses like candy to sweeten the room in the style of the Dark Arts. Chills spread along every fragile bone in my spine. I had wanted this—hadn't I?

"Let us not linger," Severus's voice called out to the attacking Death Eaters. Approaching footsteps sounded against the stone walls, and I understood that the students and faculty were seeking us out. So word had reached them of the battle. Distractedly, as Severus's hand tentatively left my back, I wondered what they would name this day in the history books. My father had fallen in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. My life destroyed in the Battle of Broken Glass and Dancing Death Eaters.

Severus refused to relent as my aunt continued the devastation at her leisure. "Onward," he said with forceful monotony. "To the Dark Lord." These words caught Bellatrix's attention, her gaze flicking to Severus's for an instant before she made her way down the table like a red carpet, her quick strides all a show to the watching silence.

Once Bellatrix began her withdrawal, the others followed suit, and Severus stayed close behind, pushing me along. "You must retreat," he told me in a whisper. "Even if I must wait for a moment, I want you to hurry. You must not be captured."

"Why?" I asked, in all honesty. "What will the Dark Lord give _me_ that should make me want to rush?"

Severus hesitated, before pulling me into a shadow, away from the others' roving eyes. "What awaits you there is better than what they would offer you here." _Azkaban. _I knew this to be his unspoken answer. He stared at me for a minute longer, as though afflicted by opposing emotions. Eventually, he moved to restart our retreat, but not before brushing his lips upon my hair, settling them upon my forehead. He took in one breath, then resumed our brisk pace.

* * *

_I stared into the clouded water in my cauldron. I could not see the ingredients I had tossed in the potion. I did not care what was in this brew. I gazed at my reflection._

_And I was like my father._

_And I was like my mother._

_But I was not them. I glanced at Severus, sitting unaware at his desk, scribbling various notes into a leather bound book of frayed parchment and secrets. I was like no one. I had my own desires, dreams, and wants. I wanted Severus; I wanted acceptance._

_I wanted to be feared._

_Power—so much like a drug, but once attained, the power would fade to fear. My reflection showed a weaker self. I had no power. _Yet now, after I had grown so close, I had lost it all. I had no fear of losing power anymore, only fear for my life?

And fear for something else. Of loss. Not loss of power. Just loss.

"_Draco," he had murmured. "I don't know if you think me to care nothing for you but in terms of the Dark Lord's mission. I think this may be the way you see me. It is not. Draco, if all our years have not shown you that, then I must have done something to make you believe otherwise."_

A smile, I remembered_. _A smile I thought you'd given me, but was followed by nothing but your gaze to the Dark Mark. _How paranoid I'd been. "I'm sorry."_

_And he had scoffed. "Don't apologize."_

_There was nothing more to be said._

* * *

The doors of the castle flew open, screeching on their hinges, creaking in their old wood. As I stepped into the night, I should have savored the taste of fresh air in my lungs—no longer the stagnant, suffocating atmosphere of stone walls and reminders of betrayal to crush me. But I could not feel relieved. We still had such a long way to go to the gates of Hogwarts, before we could truly flee by apparating. No, it was not that long of a way, but it felt like it would last an eternity. It felt like we would be caught. It felt like a sudden fire, burning before my eyes, burning a small house—a shack, to the ground.

I watched as Aunt Bellatrix cackled at the flames licking Hargid's cabin. Fire—like firewhiskey. I turned to Severus, but his eyes were elsewhere. His eyes were on the distance.

"Snape!" I heard a familiar voice cry. Glasses, pale skin, dark hair: Harry Potter. Had he come to avenge Albus Dumbledore? Revenge for us.

Bellatrix screamed murder; she wanted Potter dead. "Don't harm him," Severus called to her, though I did not understand why. " The Dark Lord wants him alive."

Did he? It was like everything was running in slow motion. Even the fire and the smoke around me swirled so languidly that I thought they would never reach the sky; they would stay in place, never move. I would never move. I would stay here and be caught and it would all be done with.

"Onward." Severus softly pushed my shoulder. He would not let me be captured, for still, he urged me forward. As I followed my aunt and the Death Eaters, I realized Severus had not followed. And Potter had fallen to the ground.

"I am not a coward!" I heard Severus shout from behind me. Of course he was not. Who would think so?

And as I fled, I knew I was the coward. And as I fled, I feared I always had been and would always be.

I could have been at the edge of a sparse forest far from Hogwarts castle; I could have been in my own backyard at Malfoy Manor. I did not know for sure, though. Apparation, quick and easy: Severus had found us, appalled that we had not fled yet.

"My nephew wouldn't leave without you," Bellatrix had spat at him.

Severus had not said another word, just placed his hand on my back, and then we were gone. I knew we were to see the Dark Lord, soon. There was a house before us now. I knew not where we were. I did not want to know. I wanted to be home.

Wherever home might be. No longer with my parents—we were slaves of the Dark Lord now. No long at Hogwarts—I was a traitor. I had created my own diaspora, displaced my own self. I had built the walls around me, but not all the bricks had been laid, not yet. Severus stood with me as the Death Eaters greedily hastened toward this abode in which awaited our Lord.

Severus took me aside. Suddenly, my whole body ached, and I collapsed against the trunk of an uprooted, gnarled tree. The darkness still enveloped us, but I had come to welcome it. The coming sun of the next day frightened me a little. Severus rested beside me as though to calm my fears, but I knew his presence was one of the tributaries stemming from it: the River Fear with so many small streams feeding its waters.

I could no longer see my aunt. We were alone. Nothing had to be said; I knew that _we were alone _would soon shift to _I am_. Severus had completed my task. The Dark Lord would be pleased with him and disgusted with me. Our roles in this war had changed drastically. Severus would be his right-hand man, and I would be nothing. I would be locked away from him. Voldemort could very well place the key in Severus's hands, but he would never be able to break the chains that would separate us. The Dark Lord would have none of that.

The final bricks would be placed, and my wall would be fully constructed. Only myself on the inside.

_So long as you see me, sitting here, listening to you. So long as you see me, watching you, Severus, I am happy._

_Then, it was not enough. No. So long as I feel your fingers brush against my skin, then I am happy. I have created my own trap now. We both knew this was impossible. I had set the metal jaws, opened them wide, hidden them beneath a perfect disguise, and stepped upon them myself. I could not dislodge this trap from my ensnared limbs. I had set it myself._

"Will you think about me?" I asked. "I mean, after—when the Dark Lord has taken over, and you're all high and mighty by his side."

He leaned forward, the tree casting its shadow along his alabaster skin, and kissed me, so lightly, on my lips, as though affirming my question with such a simple gesture, a quick embrace offered without innocent curiosity or fiery expectation. And this small kiss was all that was needed; yet when he withdrew, his spoken response held just as much comfort as his lips had and could ever.

"Always."

My sixth year at Hogwarts would be the last year I felt any momentary happiness. I feared that as I looked into Severus's raven eyes—blackbirds lifting into flight. I knew he could not stay, but I held onto his robes selfishly. I placed my hand softly upon his chest, and he grasped it in his own. His callused grip seemed unable to comfort, for the first time, and I shut my eyes to keep away the tears.

His hand left mine as he stood slowly, as though the action pained him. "I must go, now, Draco," he said with a perfect evenness to mask the pain that I hoped to be floundering in the hidden wavelengths of his repressed voice. His monotone bit me like snake's poison, a strike of death, but I would not die. I would be left here.

Back facing me, he walked forward with assured steps—steps that would lead him down the path away from me. His calm demeanor was betrayed by a final glance in my direction. There was a secret there; I could see it in his eyes. Always secrets between us, pushing us away from each other until we managed to forget them, as well as our responsibilities, all lost in each other's arms. We'd see each other again, I knew that, but he'd be at Voldemort's side, and nothing would ever be the same. Our eyes embraced, and, yet, he showed me no smile.

And in that moment I knew I'd lost him forever.

_Nevermore._

* * *

A/N: I apologize for taking so long with this final update. I started college, and really, I just didn't have the time. Well, I'm sure everyone expected a sad ending, right? I mean, I did want to keep this relevant to the books, almost as though this could have actually been happening in the _Harry Potter _series. I do feel a little bad for Draco, though... I wonder if you guys caught my snake reference and the irony of Draco feeling like Snape's words were a snake sent to kill him. Also, the secret that Draco never knew was Snape's true allegiances. I added these two references to show how impossible them being together would be.

**UPDATE **(December 16th, 2009): Sorry everyone, I will not be making an epilogue or continuing this story. There have been several requests, and I just can't do it for a few of the following reasons: (1) I simply do not have the time, at all; (2) This is how I always imagined this story ending. If you want to see how this story ends, read the seventh book. That's all that would happen, other than inner monologue of maybe Severus wishing he could have been with Draco before he died, and Draco's sadness over Severus's death. It is just not worth it!

**Review**, please. Thanks for all the reviews everyone, really! And I would really appreciate reaching **100 **reviews.


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